Albus Potter: The Darkness Within
by lordsteinman
Summary: "Albus Potter always knew he was different, but it wasn't until he was ten years old that he really began to understand why." Because harry got it is easy. This time the evil's inside of him. This time Albus is the evil." Rating for a ton of angst. Warned.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So we have a new one here from Lordsteinman (me, you fools). Well, in all technicality, this is a joint project between me and buffyobssessed, with random bits written in by carlisle-cullen-for-life. when she feels like it. These chapters, which I think will be about nine, or ten, were entirely written by me, possibly with an 'epilogue' written by buffy-obssessed. It's like a prequel to the main story published as a stand alone. Any confusions and I'll confirm the details. But yeah, here we go.**

**This is the story of the year leading up to Albus Potter's first year at Hogwarts. The main story (which will be published on a joint profile) will continue straight on from the end of this, and will be the story of his first year at Hogwarts.**

**Warnings: Here be angst. As in proper, intense angst. If you don't like it, stop now, because it gets **_**really**_** emotional in later chapters.**

**Chapter 1**

1 Year Ago

Albus Severus Potter always knew he was different, but it wasn't until he was ten years old, that he really began to understand why.

_Ding, ding._

The wailing of the alarm clock at five-thirty in the morning was the last thing anybody would want to hear, never mind Albus Potter.

Let's just say he wasn't a morning person.

Albus groaned, loud, before turning on his side, in order to face the clock. He slammed the snooze button with his fist, and then rolled over back to sleep.

"Al! Al, wake up!"

It couldn't have been more than two minutes later when he awoke once again. His mattress was moving from under him, and the duvet was sliding away from on top of him. He could also hear a loud, inane shouting in his ear, although it was difficult to make out the words…

Was his bed revolting against him?

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and saw that his bed was not in fact revolting, because James Sirius Potter was stood at the end of it. He was dressed in his checkered pyjamas, and was bouncing hard, on the edge of Albus' bed, dragging the soft duvet off his back.

"James go away," Albus mumbled; "It's the middle of the night."

"Get your butt out of bed; we need to get breakfast." James called, talking as if he were stood next to a dead person, which, considering Albus' sensory perception in the morning, probably wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded.

"It's half-past five!" Albus groaned. "Go back to sleep for an hour or two. Or six."

"Albus, you know we're getting up early today – we're going to Hogwarts!" At no point during the animated conversation, did James stop jumping, and the duvet was now splattered on the floor, much to Albus' contempt.

"No," Albus corrected, "You're going to Hogwarts. I'm getting up absurdly early, then taking a pointless trip to a filthy train station, then coming home again. The only thing I get out of this trip, is ridding myself of you, which, quite frankly, can be done with very little participation on my part."

James just grinned, knowing his brother was merely cranky after being woken up. He leapt, gallantly of the bed, and made for the door, calling, "Mum's making toast, if you're not down in five minutes it'll go cold."

The whole family was at the dinner table, when Albus plodded down the stairs. Ginny had a small plate, with two pieces of buttered toast, whilst Harry's was loaded to the point that they were all falling off the sides.

Lily sat there, looking almost as tired as Albus felt. She was munching, slowly, her eyes, gaunt, and swollen. There was a space between her and James, who looked so awake, the casual onlooker would swear he'd had twice as much sleep as the the rest of the family.

Albus sat down, quickly, and started slowly eating the buttered toast. It tasted somewhat rubbery, but that was probably because his taste buds weren't due to start work properly until at least eight am.

There was complete silence for a few minuted, as nobody was awake enough to engage in pointless conversation. Then, quite suddenly, a cloud of ash spluttered down the chimney chute, then faded, revealing a large brown tawny owl, speeding towards the kitchen table. It landed, carefully, then extended a leg in Harry's direction. He looked annoyed, but not surprised to see an owl this early in the morning. He carefuly untied the letter from the from the owl's bony leg, and opened the envelope, as it flew away, elegantly.

"That's a high speed ministry owl," Albus noted, watching, remembering a book he'd read, which had explained the obvious differences. "It must be urgent."

"Nothing important," Harry shrugged. "Just general stuff."

"By high speed owl? At half–five in the morning?" Albus butted in, sceptically. He took a bite of toast.

"Mind your business," Harry ordered, trying to look calm, whilst subtly attempting to signal his wife out of the room, by nodding his head in the direction of the door, so they could have a 'private' conversation.

Luckily Ginny picked up the hint. Not so luckily, so did Albus. Both Harry, and Ginny stood up simultaneously, and headed for the door, making it even more blatantly obvious that they wanted to be alone. What were the chances of that happening as a coicedence, really?

A minute later, Albus followed suit, murmering something to his siblings about "Finished breakfast," and "Getting dressed." With that he walked out, into the hallway, and stood next to the closed lounge door. From inside he could hear the hushed voices of his parents.

"You can't go into the office today, of all days," he heard Ginny exclaim. "For starters, it's a Sunday, _and _James is starting school today!"

"It won't take all day," Harry reasoned. "Look, I'll take you guys to the station, and see James off, then I'll go."

Ginny groaned, considerately.

"We've been trying to get our hands on these guys for months!" Harry exclaimed. "They think we might have a lead, and this opportunity won't come around again."

Ginny didn't respond.

"Come on Gin," Harry pleaded, using his wife's favourite pet name (and not because of the alcoholic connotations). "The auror's are strethed so thin at the moment, hunting down the powers spike. There's only four of us on the team already, and one of them isn't even an auror! They really need all the manpower they can get, because these people are dangerous."

"Fine," Ginny snorted, "But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

He said dangerous, Albus thought to himself, as he sat down in the car, on the motorway, heading to London's King's Cross. He was wedged in between a much too excited James Potter, and a sleeping Lily Potter, during a journey that was proving longer and even more uncomfortable than expected. Harry was in no was used to driving muggle vehicles, and it showed; even Ginny could be seen gritting her teeth, and rolling her eyes on occasion.

Throughout the lengthy 'trip,' Albus spent much of the time pondering what he'd 'overheard' outside the lounge. In truth, he'd never been told what it was his father did for a living; the subject was often avoided. He knew that Harry was an 'Auror,' but he knew not what an auror was, or what an auror did. The most any of the children had been told, was Harry worked for the ministry. Up until now, Albus had just assumed it wa boring, bog-standard office work. Nothing exciting, but Harry had said 'dangerous.'

Even though they all knew that harry had been somewhat of a hero in his youth, (However long ago that was!) Albus couldn't imagine his father doing anything particularly strenuous these days.

Was Harry's job as normal as he made it out to be? Either way, Albus had to know. He didn't like being left in the dark, and he planned to find out one way or another. If only on principle.

"What do you do at work Dad?" Albus asked, quite innocently, despite having low hopes of getting a staight answer.

There was a shocked silence in the car, for a few seconds; the question was never asked. Probably because each time it was met with such blatant indifference.

"Ask me later, son" Harry said, flatly, "I'm concentrating."

Almost immediately after saying that, the car drove over a speed bump, at top speed, and jolted. Everyone in the car shook, and Ginny looked as if she were about to shoot her husband. Everyone knew she was the better driver, but decided, in order to keep Harry's pride intact, to let him do it anyway. She seemed to be regreting it.

"Yes, Dad," James said, wincing, "You just carry on concentrating."

"Honey, I think the point of speed bumps is to slow down." Ginny advised, kindly.

"Right," Harry said, completely focused.

Albus rolled his eyes; even though he was expecting to hear some excuse or other, a didn't stop the annoyance, when his father so blatantly avoided the question.

"Okay then," he pressed on, regardless, "Mum, what does Dad do?"

They weren't getting out of that one easily.

He could see Ginny visibly squirming, and looking almost pleadingly towards her husband for assistance. He looked equally uncomfortable, even if he wasn't the one to answer.

"Al dear, your father does important work for the ministry." She gave the most basic answer possible, whilst the awkwardness of the situation painted a grin on even James' face.

"I know that," Albus continued, "But what is so important that Dad's spent over half of the holidays at work. We hardly ever see him!"

Harry sunk into his seat; apparently the guilt trip had struck a nerve. Albus could just imagine how his father's cheeks were reddening now, as they did oh so often.

"Dad's very busy at the moment." Ginny countered. "He'll be home during Christmas." She looked at her husband, squinting evilly, "_Won't he_?" She spoke the last two words to Harry, and added a healthy dollop of spite to her voice, just to make him feel that little bit better.

He sunk even lower.

At that point, Albus knew he was getting no more from his parents, so he folded his arms, moodlily, and sat back in his seat.

It's so unfair! He thought. As if it wasn't bad enough that he never got to see his father, he wasn't allowed to know why!

It sucks to be ten years old, he concluded.

Little did he know, life was about to get a whole lot worse.

By the time the car had finally reached the station, it was a quarter to eleven. Everyone chipped in to carry James' luggage, who at eleven years of age (albeit twelve in November), had no chance of carrying it all alone.

It was clear already, how excited James was to be finally starting Hogwarts. Somehow, however, the mood was not being echoed by the rest of the (extremely tired) family. Albus and Lily were still shattered, and the two parents seemed to be annoyed at each other, probably concerning this morning's letter. The letter that Albus knew not to be 'General stuff,' thanks to his earwigging skills.

That's an acquired skill by the way, refined by years of practice.

James was chatting, ammicably, yet none of the family was listening; the most response he received was that of Ginny, saying 'Yes Dear,' in the appropriate places.

"So what house is James gonna be in?" Lily asked, quite innocently, making attempt at conversation.

"Gryffindor." James responded proudly, as the family picked up his luggage, and made his way to the nearby trolley stand.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Harry warned, "There are four houses for a reason." Even as he said it, Harry was relatively sure he would make Gryffindor. He possessed all the desirable traits, even if some of them were yet to manifest themselves fully…

They each dumped their share of James' luggage onto the trolley, once they reached it, with the miniature owl, 'Einstein,' at the top. The owl had been a gift for james' eleventh birthday, in anticipation of him starting Hogwarts. James had yet to get through a feeding session with the animal, without any cuts on his fingers. Generally, Albus ended up doing it for him. For some reason he was good with animals.

Anyway, Einstein would be fed with the other owls, in the owlery upon reaching Hogwarts, so James would no longer need to worry about it.

The family began to move towards the barrier, of which harry had spoken many times. Apparently this station was where his parents had first met, Ginny gawping like the ten year old girls she was. Funny, she was the same age Albus is know.

They were fast running out of time now. Albus was practically running to keep up with his parents, and Lily wasn't doing much better. The thought of James missing the train, and thus, having to stay home, did spur him on just a _tiny_ bit though.

"We need to make this quick," Albus overheard his father muttering into Ginny's ear; "I'm meeting the team across the road in twenty minutes."

Ginny just hissed at him

They reached the barrier, in what seemed to be record time, and shot through it, like bullets from a gun.

Then they saw the train.

It was more than Albus could have ever imagined. It was so beautiful; the gleaming red paint seemed to shine, like it's own light source, and the large letters, that spelt 'The Hogwarts Express,' seemed almost three- dimensional.

A second later, James was gone, and he was charging into the carriage, totally gung-ho. Then he was leaning out of the window, and Ginny was wishing him goodbye.

It all went past in a blur really, because Albus wasn't really concentrating, and James seemed eager to get rid of them. He remembered his mother hugging James, and telling him how much they'd all miss him, at which Albus snorted. Then Harry started delivering a lecture's worth of advise, that no human could be expected to recall.

It was all very textbook; James and his parents engaged in the same conversation, that was occuring uo and down the length of the train. The moment was bittersweet, because most of these families wouldn't be seeing each other until the Christmas holidays.

Still, Albus wasn't listening. His very inquisitive ten-year old mind was busy hatching a plan…

There was a slight feeling of aftershock in the air, as Harry, Ginny, Albus, and Lily assembled out of the barrier. Ginny was in some sort of denial, claiming, "They all grow up so quick!"

Again, he rolled his eyes, so far, in fact, they were danger of getting stuck; trust his mother.

"Are you sure you're okay to get back?" Harry asked his wife, insinuating his plans to leave, and soon.

"I _can_ drive you know," Ginny repled, with a hint of snide in her voice, that just served to intensify Harry's guilt. Then, she shot Albus and Lily a humorous look, which clearly said, "A downside better that he can."

They giggled.

So, Harry promptly kissed his wife goodbye, and started walking away, still looking bright red. Ginny seemed satisfied with her work.

Then, suddenly, it was time for albus' time to come into action. He'd vowed that he would find out what it was his father was so dearly protecting, one way or another. Be it the easy or hard way. They'd tried the easy way in the car.

Now it was time for the hard way.

"Mum, I'm going to the loo," Albus informed her. He deliberately informed her, as opposed to asking, because he knew there was a strong chance she would tell him to wait until they got home. He couldn't afford for that to happen. Thus, he proceeded to walk away, before she was able to give an answer. Besides, it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

With that, he was running off, and as you may have guessed, Albus was not heading for the toilets, instead he was following his father into what was a dangerous, and potentially exciting scenario.

There was no time to think, and no opportunity to back down. He knew he'd get hell for it later, but he had to know, he just had to.

He really had no choice.

His father was walking through the station, and heading for the main exit. Albus followed, keeping his distance, in case Harry turned around.

When they were in the fresh air, harry began to move faster, due to the loss of crows. So much so, that Albus found himself struggling to keep up. He even thought he'd lost his father at one point.

They moved stealthily through the muggle street, and Albus could see his father's wand just visible, and thus, accessible.

It was clear that Harry was well trained; his beady eyes were wide open, and ready for anything. His hand hovered within the holly and phoenix wand, and looked as if it could grab hold of it, faster than the eye could move. He moved quickly, and efficiently, making it clear he had places to be.

Ten minutes later, Harry was sat calmly around a table with what semmed to be three other Aurors. Or as he discovered earlier, two aurors, and one that was 'not even an auror.' Albus couldn't hear what they were saying, because despite it being an open aired café, he couldn't stand to close without looking suspicious.

By now, Ginny would have probably been worried sick, and chances were, he was going to be grounded until this time next year. Either way, he was wuite safe at the moment, because whilst ginny may have guessed the nature of Albus' 'escape,' she didn't know where Harry had gone, and unconsciously led Albus.

There was more hushed chatter, and Albus was straining to hear, when he remembered an extendable ear in his pocket, which incidently had been 'commandeered' from Uncle George's stock room. Albus' attitude to stealing, was it if the owner didn't notice it's dissapearance, it wasn't important anough for them in the first place, to be worth keeping. Albus knew it was dangerous using the ear, because Harry would recognise the contraption almost immediately, but Albus had to try; the whole escapade would be pointless otherewise.

Slowly, he unravelled the stringy object, then tossed the end in the direction of Harry's table. For a moment, he held his breath, convinced that he'd be caught, but nobody seemed to notice.

Jackpot!

Slowly, Albus exhaled, then inserted the other end into his ear, and began to listen:

"Our sources tell us that they're hiding in that dingy shack on Linder road." A deep husky voice explained. "If we catch them off guard, we can stun 'em, quick, and take 'em in. Easy." The man finished.

Are we gonna have reinforcements or not?" Albus recognised his father's unique voice, speaking with a slightly worried tone.

There was a pause, which Albus assumed was filled with the nodding or shaking of a head.

"We're stretched too thin; the whole office is working on the _other_ project." The deep voice spoke again, giving no indication as to what the _'other' _project was."

"It's being going on all summer," Harry moaned. "We've been stretched like St. Mungo's Emergency Department on a Friday night for six weeks solid. My own son asked me why I've been away all summer this morning, and I can't even tell him why."

Albus cringed at the reference, though it was consolidating to know that it was ministry regulations that were restricting him, not ridiculous parental rules.

"Couldn't it all be just a big mistake?" Harry concluded.

"No," another, female voice butted in. "Our sources are never wrong."

"It'd help us aurors tenfold, if you guys told us what the hell is going on in the Department Of Mysteries." Harry complained with murmers of agreement from the two remaining (male) aurors, Apparently, the female operative worked in the Department Of Mysteries. Clearly Albus wasn't the only one who didn't know what happened in the area if the Ministry. She seemed to know more than she was allowed to let on.

"You know we can't tell you, it's called the Department Of Mysteries for a reason. I'm quite happy to come and help you guys catch a bad guy or two. Trust me, I need a break from all _that._"

"Anyway," a fourth voice spoke. Albus could see that he was a tall man, with a high pitched voice, and a slightly gourmless expression spoke. "The other project is the _biggie_. If this power ohenomenal power is let loose, before we can stop it, we'll have another Lord Voldemort on our hands. The race is to ind, and extinguish it, before the problem gets that far. Problem is, we don't have a clue who or what it is."

That was a bit intense, Albus thought. Extinguish it, really! What if the power wasn't hell bent on world domination, like Voldemort had been,

"What if it's not evil?" Harry asked, voicing Albus' own thoughts. Great minds think alike…

"It's not possible." The female spoke, her cold words hitting everybody's nerves. "That kind of power dominates and corrupts. You can't control the power; the power controls you."

She wasn't challenged, even though nobody fully believed her.

Then Harry groaned, for what seemed like the tenth time that morning. Apparently Ginny's bad mood had rubbed off on him. "Why does everybody else get phenomenal power, whilst we get a few ex-death eaters in a shack?"

"Tell me about it." The bearded man added, "My partner gets to lead the team that's searching for it. While I'm here."

"Is that Dawkins?" Harry asked, innocently, though everybody could hear the resentment in his tone. Harry clearly wasn't going to insult Dawkins in front of his partner, but it was obvious that they didn't get on.

They had definitely said ex-death eaters, Albus thought to himself, after pondering the term. They were bad, really bad. On the upside, if Harry was hunting the bad guys, that made him one of the good guys-right?

There was a brief nod, from the deep voiced man, in response to Harry's question.

"We can't shut down the day-to-day runnings of the auror office, just because something big comes up." The woman interrupted the silent correspondance.

There was a murmer of agreement, which Harry's voice was conveniantly absent from.

"Besides, if we shut everything down, people will start asking questions. We can't afford for this to get out. There'll be riots; everything will think Voldemort's back, or something stupid like that."

"So we know it's definitely not _him_." The deep voice spoke again, putting stress on the last word, to avoid saying the name. The fear was evident, even after so many years.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, as you've allowed me on this field trip of yours." The woman spoke again, her speech turning into a hushed whisper. Albus had to strain to hear her, even through the extendable ear, which naturally amplified sound. "If any of you speak a word of this, , I'll murder you in your sleep. After losing my job."

She was deadly serious.

"If this was any old person, we wouldn't have been able to pick anythingup, until it was too late. We got the spike…. Through the _trace._"

There was a gasp from everybody on the table. Apparently the term 'trace' meant something significant, though Albus had never heard the term before.

"So it's… a child?" Harry stuttered.

Her voice sounded somewhat hoarse, as she confirmed his suspicion.

"Are you telling me that the whole Auror Department is going on a full scale man hunt for _a child!"_

It sounded barbaric, even to Albus. And they planned to extinguish this threat. What did that mean!

"I don't like it any more than you do." She muttered. "We've got spies up at the school, as of the new year. Our main problem is we don't know who it is. Chances are, it'll be a sixth or seventh year, for it to have that much power."

There was silence for a minute, as the gravity of the revelation hit home.

Then the gruff, manly voice concluded, "We need to focus on _our_ missio. I say we move out."

There were a few silent nods, and a grunt that sounded like "Uh-huh," before they all got up, and walked slowly away.

Linder Road was so downtrodden, and decrepit, that Albus had trouble determining which of the 'houses' was the aforementioned shack. The road was a deep brown, almost completely coated inrubbish, and the path wasn't much better.

Each of the houses seemed to have at least one broken window, and many of them were literally collapsing under their own weight.

In such an empty street, Albus knew it would be impossible to hide, so he waited at the top, whilst the four aurors made their way to the very last house on the street. He stared around the corner, watching as the door bkew into splinters (his father's handiwork, he was proud to stay), then charged inside.

He waited for a minute, then ran down the street, stopping outside 'the shack.' He walked carefully around the edge, then found a dirty window, that was low enough to the ground that Albus could easily peer through. Luckily, because the window was so dirty, anybody inside would have to look twice if they wanted to see him staring through. He had a safe vanage point, which didn't require him to go inside the house. Even he knew that would be stupid; he didn't know any spells.

Inside what seemed to be the lounge, harry and the other three aurors had burst in on the four death-eaters. The death-eaters looked like death warmed up. They were all drugged up, and hadtrack marks running up on down their exposed arms. They wore only a set of rags, that seemed to be personalised to each person. They looked so malnourished, that a simple knockback jinx would easily knock them out cold.

The four aurors stood in defensive positions-wands raised, and feet opened shoulder-width apart, for balance. They moved closer, and watched as each death-eater stood up, and raised their respective arms in the air.

On one scarwny, female wrist, Albus could just see the dark mark, that, eighteen years ago, would send shivers down the spine of even the bravest man. It had been tatooed on the wrists of all Voldemort's followers, back when the death-eaters had a purpose. Nowadays, they were a mere annoyance; a samll shadow of the group that had once struck fear into the hearts of men.

Rounding them up was merely pest control, which seemed to be what they were doing now.

The aurors were slowly advancing on the four inhabitants, careful not to make any sudden moves, and provoke an attack. These people might have been weak, but that didn't mean they wouldn't have a traick or two up their sleeves.

Either way, they looked resigned to deep surrender. Albus was almost bored looking at it; Harry had said dangerous!

Then suddenly, there was a deafening _'crack,' _and ten more death eaters appeared in various positions around the room, surrounding the four aurors.

There was a cackle from the witch whose dark mark Albus had spotted, as the four original death eaters drew wands. "Look who's surrounded now," she giggled, as fear registered on all four of the aurors' faces.

"Crap." Harry cursed. Albus gulped, immediately taking back his words. The situation must be bad, because he'd never heard his father swear before. Now he was worried.

Then all hell broke loose.

Stunners and killing curses flew everywhere across the room, as they tried to hopelessly defend themselves against the odds. The logic was simple; it would be easier to die fighting than to be captured by these people.

"Bloody hell!" Harry cried. "I told you we needed reinforcements."

There was a flash of green light, and the witch from the Department Of Mysteries dropped to the ground, dead.

Some field trip.

It was only when Albus saw somebody die, that he really began to understand how much of an idiot he'd been, following his father. Albus couldn't do magic; he didn't even have a wand! If one of these people came here, he'd be killed faster than he'd be able to say 'transfiguration.'

Now it was clear why Harry hadn't told them what it was he did. The scene was horrifying; Albus wanted to go back to blissful ignorance, back to a naivety that he was no longer blessed with. The world wasn't the place he once thought it to be, and he didn't want to have to deal with it. He know knew the true meaning of the phrase, "You really don't want to know."

A bright jinx flashed across the room, and embedded itself into Harry's shoulder, who screamed in agony, and collapsed over onto the floor.

By now, Albus was sobbing, he could do nothing to prevent the scene unfurling in front of him. He would be stupid to go in; he'd only get killed. But nor could he leave his father here to… he'd never felt so helpless in his life. All he could do, was sit and watch, as good people were massacred.

The silent tears rolled down his face, as he began to imagine the single, inevitable outcome to this scenario. He knew chances of his father emerging alive were practically non-existance, and unless Albus ran now, he would probably go the same way.

But he oculdn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't abandon his father. Hie didn't care whether he lived or died at this point.

Then came the pain.

It felt like his every cell was burning from the inside out, as comething intense, something dangerous coursed through his veins. It pumped through him, like adrenalin, but hotter, faster.

And lord, did it hurt.

He felt like he was bursting apart from the heat. He screamed like he'd ever screamed before, high pitched, and deafening; his veinswere alive, dancing about mockingly. His eyes were clenched shut, the pure agony of whatever was happening, shooting thruogh the very core of his being.

Was this some sick curse, that a dark, twisted death-eater had inflicted.

It sure felt like it.

Then he was writhing, like a snake, cringing and jolting with every beat of his heart.

It felt like a century later, when the pain finally subsided. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, coughing away the last remnants of the blazing heat from his throat, then stood up.

Everything had changed; he felt different, stronger, capable.

Powerful.

He looked into the window, and what he saw scared him. His reflection had changed, his features twisted; a dark, cold expression. And his eyes…

His eyes were pitch black.

It was then that he lost control, feeling nothing but pure, penetrating hate. Hate for every person, every creature. Again he looked inside, and felt it. The deep resentment for every person in the room, aurors and death eaters alike. He knew what had to be done. The people were all so small.

His eyes squinted, almost subconsciously, and the window shattered, splintering into a million small pieces. Some pierced his skin, some didn't; it didn't really make any difference, because they didn't hurt.

He climbed in the window, watching as each of the people inside stopped to stare at him. They raised wands, but he laughed. They were so tiny; did they think they had any chance against _him! _A curse came his way; a jet green flash of light. He raised his arm, and it was gone.

"Albus get out of here!" There was a man, crumpled on the floor, and screaming to him. He had jet black hair, and rounded glasses. There was something very familiar about him. Was it that gleaming scar on the forehead? He lay there with a bleeding gash on his arm, pleading towards Albus.

Regardless of the familiarity, Albus laughed again; the man couldn't control him! He an arm, preparing to kill the man, when a dozen curses came his way. He growled; these people were a nuisance. Then his hands were in the air, and the spells flew back to their owners, all of which dissaparated, leaving Albus alone with three other men. One was the man laid on the floor, who had spoken earlier, dircetly to Albus. There was a tall, lanky figure stood in the corner of the room, and a bearded wizard, adopting a defensive position behind Albus.

"Urm Potter," the large hairy man spoke from behind Albus, "I think we've found what the Department of Mysteries were looking for." Then he raised his own wand, and hurled a jinx towards Albus.

"_ERESCO!_" 'Potter' screamed, aiming his wand not at Albus, but at the bolt of purple light, flying throught the spells vanished on contact, with a resounding _'crack.'_ "That's my son!" he cried, as the magic dissapeared.

"Have you got any better ideas?" The gangly auror cried. He had his wand raised in defense.

As if that would make a difference.

"Protego," the man uttered, after Albus gave him a murderous glare. Was this a precaution? Albus blinked, again, and watched as the shield dissolved. The man flew backwards, and hit the wall, falling unconscious.

Oh the thrill; it felt som amazing; he needed more.

"Albus stop, please." The pleading voice of that bespeckled fool was grating on his nerves.

"Potter, we're going to have to stun him, whoever the hell's son he is. Otherwise he'll kill us both." The only other remaining person in the room spoke again, whilst moving stealthily around from behind Albus.

Potter, and his colleague moved closer together, the former finally getting up off the floor. They each had their wands in hand.

"No, Warrer, let me talk to him." Potter spoke again, without taking his gaze off Albus.

'Warrer' gritted his teeth, then rolled his eyes. "If we get killed…"

For a moment, Potter looked like he was about to say something, as Albus flexed his fingertips, threateningly.

Then, for a second time, that morning, reinforcements arrived, appearing with an echoing _'crack.'_ This time they were ministry officials, as opposed to downtroddedn death eaters.

Albus grinned; a challenge.

The fifteen new aurors surrounded him, scattered evenly eround the room, each with their wands pointed directly at him.

"Stand down boys," a confident wizard, who seemed to be the leader spoke to Warrer and Potter. "We'll take it from here."

"Dawkins," Warrer yelled. "Am I glad to see you?"

"Leave him alone!" Potter screamed, to the surprise of the reinforcements.

"Potter, do you know how dangerous he is!" Dawkins cried back, talking as if to a little child. It was clear these two hated each other. Not that it mattered; they'd all be dead in a minute anyway. Growling, Albus looked around, staring at the aurors, marking the weakest.

"That's my son, Dawkins!" Potter cried, still keeping both eyes fixated on his son.

There was a series of shocked gasps around the room.

"You knew about this! Someone yelled.

"Potter, this… thing is dangerous; we can't have another Lord Voldemort." Dawkins called, his voice dripping with murderous malice.

"I swear to God Dawkins, if you kill my son, I'll personally hunt down every member of your GOD DAMNED FAMILY!" Potter was shouting now, which angered Albus somewhat.

There was silence for a moment, as Dawkins considered the threat.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a cry of "STUPEFY," from the corner of the room, effectively ending the dispute. Warrer had his own arm raised, and a jet of red light was shooting towards Albus.

Again, he merely blinked his eyes, it rebounded, then ricocheted off the back wall embedding itself into another auror's back. Albus stretched out his palm, and smirked, as a jet of emerald green light shot it's way into Warrer's chest. It made contact in barely a second. Warrer was dead before hitting the floor.

"That's it," Dawkins screamed, angered at the demise of the auror. He looked at his team, and snarled:

"Kill 'im."

"NO" Potter screamed, charging his way towards Albus.

Too late, the curses were already coming, bursting from almost every wand in the room, and flying towards him, coming closer, ever closer.

He ducked; lightning speed, and the spells collided above his head, with an almighty sound.

He looked up-Potter was charging towards him, with all the power of a raging bull. Albus stood, and opened his palm, embracing the contact. He chuckled, as the clumsy man hurled into the cold, stone wall.

Quickly, Potter stood up, turned around, and looked Albus in the eye. "Albus please."

He groaned; the old man was tiresome, and needed dealing with. He slowly walked over to the crumpled lump on the floor, as cold, brutal realisation dawned in the eye of it's shaking lunged, anticipating the kill-

"STUPEFY!"

Potter's curse took him by surprise. It struck him in the chest, and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers. You guys rule.**

"The child's dangerous Potter; he killed someone!"

"He's ten years old!"

The sound of distant voices was the first thing Albus heard when he awoke. They were loud, and the arguing was vicious.

"Exactly! If he's like this now, what's he going to be like in twenty, thirty years' time!"

It took Albus a few moments to realise that the men were talking about him. He quickly identified one voice as his father, but couldn't quite place the other, despite it sounding vaguely familiar. Somehow the last few hours seemed like a blur; had they met during that time?

Was it hours, or days?

Without even opening his eyes, he realised that he was lying on a bed of some sort. The mattress was large, and soft, softer than his own, which meant he wasn't at home. After taking a long sniff, at the clean, sterilised smell in the air, he concluded that he must in fact be in a hospital of some sorts. Was it St. Mungo's?

Immediately, he tried to sit up, but his body wouldn't move. He opened his eyes, and looked down seeing that his wrists and ankles were bound tightly to the bed, with thick, leather straps. He didn't have the energy to try and move. Besides, it wouldn't make any difference; he was strapped so tightly to the bed it hurt.

He couldn't remember what had happened the last time he was conscious, (whenever that was) but he did recall a deep pain that had spread through his body like the plague. It had hurt. Hurt, like a stream of magma, roasting his body from the inside out. That was all he could remember, pain. Pain worse than anything imaginable. His body was still numb, as if suffering from an aftershock.

"Dad," he croaked, willing his father to come to his side.

"Albus!" Immediately, Harry tore his attention away from the fierce argument, and rushed towards his son's bed.

"Don't talk to it Potter, it's dangerous." The man who had argued with Harry was tall, imposing, and spoke with no emotion.

"When you've finished deciding whether or not to kill me," Albus said, very calmly, yet with a definite hint of menace in his voice. "I need my father."

"Dawkins, you've said you're piece, now get the hell out of here." Harry agreed, viciously.

The name 'Dawkins' sounded familiar to Albus, and the few connotations he got from it were not good.

With that Dawkins, scowling at Albus, left the room.

"How are you feeling?" Harry sounded about as worried as Albus felt.

"It hurts." Albus replied, "Everywhere."

"It'll be like that for a little while."

"What happened?"

"Well, you're body went through a pretty serious change a while back, and it's still…"

"Sore," Albus interjected." A while back. Did that mean twenty minutes? An hour? Yesterday?

"Yeah." Harry sounded sympathetic, meaning something really bad must have happened.

"I can't remember… what… what happened?" Albus stuttered. "Where am I?"

"You're at Hogwarts, in the Hospital Wing." Harry carefully stroked his son's dark hair.

Albus coughed loud. His throat felt like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper. "Jesus, how long was I out for; I'm not due to start for another year."

They both laughed at the feeble attempt at a joke, until Harry responded by saying: "Albus, you've been in a coma for a week. I brought you here because Madam Pomfrey's the only person I trust with you. The ministry didn't want you to come here, but me and Professor McGonagall agree it's the best place for you."

"Great." Albus replied, with neither irony nor enthusiasm in his voice. The only place he wanted to be right now, was in his bed, at home, but Harry was probably right. "Why am I here?" He asked again.

"It's… kind of a long story." Harry said, clearly avoiding the question. "It was… quite horrible really."

"Tell me please."

"Albus…"

"Dad."

"Are you sure?"

"Dad, I've just woken up from a week long coma, feeling like total shit, strapped to a bed like a criminal. I'm kinda curious, yeah."

Harry hesitated.

"However bad it is… I'd rather know."

Slowly, Harry reached over to Albus' bedside table, and pulled off a flask. It was transparent glass, filled with a deep, emerald green liquid; a potion. "It'll be better if you if you drink this. It'll… it'll help you remember."

Albus nodded, as enthusiastically as the pain would allow.

Harry moved the vial towards Albus' mouth, and poured in the potion. It tasted sickly, so much so that Albus had to force it down, grimacing as he swallowed. "What's in that stuff?"

Harry didn't answer. "It'll take a few seconds to work."

There was silence for a few moments, as Albus slowly began to remember what had happened, before everything blacked out. The images flashed through his mind; going to the station, running away, following his father. Then he remembered Linder road, the dilapidated, subjugated cesspit, with the death eaters, and the curses. Then the pain; the insufferable torture as the heat burned through his body. He transformed, transformed into something.. . Something…

It came rushing back to him in an instant. All those people he'd attacked, the Aurors, the death eaters-

His father.

Then he remembered Dawkins, the man who'd led the team of reinforcements. The man who'd ordered his death.

He saw the third Auror in Harry's team, the bearded man, with the deep, gravelly voice; Warrer. Albus saw him drop dead, after that glowing beam of light shot towards him. From Albus' own palm…

Salty tears began to well up in his eyes, as Harry held him into a close hug. It was slightly, awkward, because Albus was too restricted to return it, but Harry didn't seem to care.

"What's happening to me?" Albus cried.

"I… I don't…"

"Dad, don't lie to me."

"I…" he looked at Albus' pleading stare. "Okay, but… okay.

"Warrer. He said something about the Department of Mysteries."

"In July," Harry started, hesitantly, "The Department of Mysteries picked up a huge emerging…"

"Me," Albus finished.

"We… we think so. But the… they're not sure. It looks like it. We know that it's an underage witch or wizard, and it's calmed down a lot in the last week. Their sensors went a bit haywire on that day we were on Linder road as well. It's…"

"Okay, okay, I get it, it's me."

"I'm sorry. The ministry, they don't think you can control it…"

"I can't… did you see me? I killed him. Didn't I?" Warrer, I killed him."

Harry nodded, just once. "It wasn't your fault."

"I'm dangerous."

"You're okay now, Albus. We don't know what happened, when or if it will happen again. The main thing is, at least for now, you're… you again."

"But it might happen again; I could… That's why I'm here aren't I, in these?" Albus motioned towards the restraints.

"Yeah."

There was a pause, whilst the comment sunk in.

"Stay here please." Albus pleaded.

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry said, with utter conviction. Quickly, he changed the subject, and said, "You know James has been here all week."

"Huh?" Albus said, somewhat confused.

"He hasn't been to a class so far. He told Professor Vorder that he'd have to drag him out of the hospital kicking, screaming and swearing. Profusely."

Both of them laughed at that; it was so typical of James. Albus coughed again, after he laughed, making a mental note not to do it again.

"I managed to convince him to go and shower, and get some breakfast, about half an hour ago. He's worried about you."

"He should be more worried about the guy I murdered." Albus said, coldly.

"Al, that wasn't you."

"It was though; I saw it; I felt it!" Then he threw his head back in anguish, slumping down on the pillow. "I bet he had a family, and everything." His eyes were flowing like Niagara Falls, and showed no signs of quitting any time soon.

"Albus stop!" Harry commanded. "If you keep thinking like that, then people like Dawkins will have won. We're not giving in, because I know that wasn't you, and James knows that wasn't you. We're going to fight this, whatever the hell Dawkins, and everybody else says."

Albus nodded reluctantly, as Harry dried his tears with a tissue, which came from a box on his bedside table. The box looked like it had been used quite substantially over the last week.

Again, there was silence for a moment, before Albus said, "They want to kill me, don't they Dad?" He spoke darkly, his voice quivering. "They think I'm dangerous."

Harry gulped, "Yeah, yeah they do." There wasn't much more he could add to that.

Then a pause, before a faint, faint whisper.

"Don't let them kill me, Dad."

It was about half an hour later, when James Potter charged back into the hospital wing, flinging the doors wide open. "Hey Dad," he called, "Vorder said Albus is awake!"

He looked down to see Albus, strapped to the bed, alone. "Dad went to see Mum down at the entrance." Albus said. "He could be a little while, apparently Mum had to drop Lily off at Uncle Ron's before coming down here." He refused to meet his brother's eye.

James could see the faint outline of what minutes ago, had been tears, running down his brother's face. He walked over to Albus, and sat in the chair beside him.

"I heard about your conversation with Professor," Albus said, looking indifferently towards the ceiling.

"Yeah, well, you're more important to me than History of Magic" James replied, softly. Considering how much of an idiot he was, most of the time, he could be really emotional. When the opportunity arose.

"Did you hear about what happened?"

"I don't care what happened in that bloody shack. You're still my brother, and if that Dawkins git thinks he can change that, he has another thing coming."

"Thanks." Albus still couldn't meet his brother's eye.

"Look at me Albus." James said, sternly.

Albus didn't move.

"ALBUS LOOK AT ME!"

Albus tilted his head, just slightly, so James could meet his teary eyes. "Bloody hell James-I killed someone." He practically screamed.

"I don't care."

The doors opened again, and Harry walked in with Ginny, both looking extremely worried.

"Hey Mum." Albus said, trying to sound cheerful, yet failing miserably.

"How are you feeling dear?" Ginny asked, using her best maternal voice. She walked hurriedly over to his bedside.

"I've been better." Albus grinned, half-heartedly, before exploding into a fit of coughs, for the third time since waking up. He couldn't move his hand, to cover his mouth, so his duvet and pyjamas were showered in saliva.

Ginny sighed, heavily.

"Could someone loosen these straps up a little bit; my arms are practically dead?" He asked, before looking around. Nobody had moved.

"We're not…" Harry started to speak, but then broke off again.

"We're not allowed." James grunted, through gritted teeth. It was obvious he was hating this almost as much as Albus himself. An older brother should be able to protect his siblings from… this.

"Ah." Albus responded, trying to seem impassive, though it was clearly a front.

"The ministry only agreed to keep you…" Harry broke off again.

"Alive," James butted in, showing his obvious contempt for the ministry at this point.

Harry winced, at the crudity of the statement, but continued on, regardless. "Provided we abide by certain… conditions. The straps were one."

"And the others," Albus prompted, sensing they were trying to avoid the subject.

"In a few days, they're going to take you to St. Mungo's, and you're.. . You might have to stay there for a little while, until they work out what's wrong with you." Ginny spoke very calmly, considering no mother should be having this conversation with their ten year old son.

"How long?" Albus asked, as steadily as he could through gritted teeth.

"To be honest dear, it could be months." Ginny said.

"Okay," he replied calmly.

Then he burst into tears. " Mum, I'm sorry I left you at the station, it was dumb, and now I've just got us all in this stupid mess." He continued sobbing, as Ginny held his head in her arms, whilst a single tear ran down her face.

They stayed like that for almost five minutes, during which Harry and James looked extremely awkward.

Eventually, when the embrace ended, Harry said to his son, "Albus, it's me that should be sorry. I was wrong not to tell you what I do when I go to work, especially since I've been spending all my time their recently. You were right to wonder, and… if… I.."

"We." Ginny butted in, grasping hold of her husband's hand.

He smiled, "If we told you, then none of this would have happened." Harry finished off, looking like apologising was the hardest thing he had done in a while.

"Don't be ridiculous," Albus said, sounding slightly more collected now, "If the Ministry's been sensing the… me since July, then it was bound to happen sometime. There was nothing you could have done about it."

"I could say the same about you." James said, with a knowing look on his face.

"Yeah." Albus didn't look convinced.

They were interrupted, as for the third time, the enormous double doors opened, once, again, and Madam Pomfrey walked in, looking sombre. She carried a syringe, and a long needle.

"What's this?" Albus asked, directing the question to nobody in particular.

"Medication. It's some experimental muggle remedies, mixed with a potion or two." Harry replied, making it clear this had been a regular apparition so far." Great; Albus hated needles.

"It's supposed to stop… stuff like before happening again."

"Just say it," Albus groaned, "It stops me turning into a murderous lunatic."

Silence.

"This injection goes in… kind of an awkward place." Madam Pomfrey explained, as she assembled the needle.

Albus looked at the needle, which was easily three inches, and for the first time, felt the plasters on his backside.

"You have got to be kidding me." Albus muttered, groaning.

"Believe me, Al," James grinned, cheekily, "We want to see this even less than you want to feel it."

"There must be something you can do!" James yelled across the office, to Professor McGonagall, who was sitting quite calmly behind her elaborate chair.

She waited for him to finish, then said, very quietly, "I understand your concerns Mr Potter, and believe me, I share them, but you have to understand where Mr Dawkins is coming from. The boy killed someone, without barely blinking an eye. Even you can't deny he's a threat."

"'The boy,' Professor, as you so crudely put it, is my brother, and they have him trussed up in there like some sort of criminal, plotting how best to kill him." James cried at her, flailing his arms in the air.

"Mr Potter, I deplore you, if you would please stop taking your anger out on me, long enough to for us to converse civilly, we might make some progress." Professor McGonagall sighed; how like his father James was.

"So what are you suggesting?" James asked, surprised that McGonagall seemed to be taking his side.

"I agree with you, that at the moment, Albus poses no threat; he is completely powerless. Unfortunately, there is no way to determine if or when your brother will re-enter the state of mind that caused him to do those things. For his safety, and for your family's safety, and for the safety of _my _school, I cannot let you take off the restraints."

James groaned, just when he thought they were getting somewhere… "Yeah, but Madam Pomfrey is giving him injections; he won't do any of that stuff again."

"You know as well as I do, that we cannot guarantee these potions will work." McGonagall batted away the feeble argument without a second's thought.

"Please, Professor. He's ten years old. I hate seeing him like that, it's just not right." James, apparently, was now resorting to pleading.

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but it seems like you're just going to have to get used to it." She was beginning to get exasperated with James, even if she did share his views to a certain extent. "James, I want Albus to get through this as much as anybody, but things are going to get worse long before they get better, and we're going to have to make some sacrifices. Now, in a few days, Albus will be leaving my school and thus; my care. Until then, I can assure you that the Ministry will not get their hands on your brother.

James snorted; what good was two days!

"Many of my associates here," she gestured at the portraits around the room, "have access to both St. Mungo's office, and the Auror office. They will keep me informed of the Ministry's plans for Albus. I they made any life threatening decisions for him, we will know in advance, and then be able to take appropriate measures, to ensure such plans are taken into action."

There was the beginnings of a rebellious grin, edging its way onto her face, but James didn't care. "Thanks," he said, bitterly, not sounding in the least it like he meant it.

"I really can't begin to imagine what you and the family must be going through now, but whatever happens, you need to stay strong. If not for yourself, then for Albus, because he can't afford for you to break down.

In a second, James was no longer a moody child, and was eating up her every word. She was right, was going to need all the brotherly support he could get. One thing he prided himself on being, was a good brother. "Yes Ma'am."

She smiled warmly on him, "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry; I really wish I could have been of more help."

"Could you at least try and get the bloody straps loosened; I hate seeing him in pain."

"I'll see what I can do."

The prospect of bringing some half-decent food up to his brother, was the only thing that persuaded James to attend dinner that night. He walked into the Great Hall, looking sullen, and slumped down on the Gryffindor table, next to his best friend, Martin.

It was lucky really, that Martin was already a good friend of the Potters', because James hadn't had time to acquaint himself with anyone in the year. He'd barely even spoken to the people in his dormitory; they'd been asleep, when he finally turned in every night.

In fairness, the last week had been agonising for James. None of them knew if Albus would awake at all, or if he'd stay that way, even if he did.

It was exactly a week, since he'd been cornered in his dormitory, on his first night, by Professor Vorder, (head of Gryffindor house.) He and Martin had been chatting, excitably, about lessons the following day, whilst laying sheets out on their respective beds. Beds which were deliberately right next to each other. Neither of the boys knew the remaining three occupant of their dormitory, so they'd decided to stick together. They'd both been laughing at the sullen look on the potions' masters' face. When Professor Vorder marched in. It was clear that he'd heard every word of their offending conversation, but there were more important matters at hand. When he'd told James that Albus was in the hospital wing, James had left immediately, and hadn't returned at all that night.

"How's he doing?" Martin asked, whilst loading James a plate of meat balls and pasta, exactly a week later.

"He's awake, but it's bad." James replied, with his head in his hands. He made no attempt to eat the food, even though it was the closest thing he'd had to a proper meal all week."

"At least he's awake." Martin replied. He nudged the meat balls, suggestively towards James, before adding, "What's the bad news?"

"He's going off to St. Mungo's the day after tomorrow, and they're going to try to work out what's wrong with him there." Trouble is, he's gonna be stuck there for a while, and… I won't be able to see him until Christmas." James looked as if he were about to cry, before he gulped, and stopped himself.

This wasn't the place.

"Everything's gonna be okay with Albus." Martin said. Then he paused, before saying, if it's consolation, I'm worried about him as well. Even if you won't tell me what's wrong."

`"Look, I told you, it's complicated, I can't really talk about it." James said, for the umpteenth time that week.

Martin changed the subject, feeling slightly guilty, yet still annoyed at being left in the dark. "Anyway, Dad's been missing you in Herbology. He reckons you're gonna be a whizz." Martin's father, Neville Longbottom, was the Herbology teacher at Hogwarts, and the reason the two boys had been so close. James' father, and Neville were extremely good friends.

"I'm crap at Herbology." James concluded, still sounding depressed.

"How do you know; you've never tried it." Martin tried desperately to cheer him up.

The conversation (/argument) was cut short, when a shout from the Slytherin table attracted James' attention. It was David Watkins, a stuck up young wizard who lived not far from Grimmauld Place.

"Hey, Potter, is it true your brother's tied to a bed in the hospital wing?" he called over to the Gryffindor table.

"How the hell does he know?" James growled, before getting to his feet, and practically charging towards the Slytherin table. He whipped out his wand, and thrusted it under Watkins' neck, who merely smirked, glad for the attention.

"Who told you that!" James screamed to him, whilst the whole hall turned to watch the feud.

"What's it to you?" Watkins smirked, soaking in the gazes of everybody in the room.

James plunged the wand in deeper, so much so, that it almost pierced the skin. "Tell me."

Watkins rolled his eyes, elaborately, before sighing, and replying, "If you must know, I went down for a headache earlier, and he happened to be there, while Madam Pomfrey whipped me up a potion."

"If you breathe a word of this, I swear…"

"You'll what?" Watkins challenged.

"Potter!" Their argument was cut short, by none other than an angry Professor McGonagall. "Put you r wand away, and return to your house table." Then she looked towards Watkins, even more severely, (if possible). "My office," she instructed. "Now."

As Watkins got up, and followed McGonagall, James made his way back to the, as yet, untouched pile of dinner.

"What was that about?" Martin asked, whilst digging into his own meal.

"Nothing," James replied.

"Is he really tied to the bed?"

"No, Watkins is chatting shit, as usual."

"Ah," Martin didn't even sound remotely convinced.

It was about eight o' clock, when James returned to the hospital wing, to find Albus asleep, and his parents, and his parents talking in hushed voices.

Slowly he walked up, and sat down in one of the chairs at Albus' bedside. He 'humphed,' slightly, while slumping down in the chair, which caught Harry and Ginny's attention. They gasped, and stopped talking immediately, making it clear they didn't want James to hear.

"How's he doing?" James asked, quietly, although sensing there would be little change.

"More of the same really," Harry confirmed.

"Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are coming down to see him tomorrow." Ginny said, brightly, though blatantly trying to change the subject.

"And Lily?" James asked, remembering that his little sister had been staying with them.

"Yeah, she'll be here, with Hugo and Rosie."

Knowing his brother like James did, he knew that the apparition of five more people would only serve to make Albus feel more self-conscious. It would be idiotic though, to say anything on the subject, because Albus would only deny, in order to stop everyone else feeling bad. Typical of him, to be thinking of everybody else's feeling, while he was strapped to a bed in hospital.

"Why didn't she come down with you?" James asked off his mother.

"We didn't really think it was the place for her," Ginny explained, "No eight year-old should have to see their older brother in a coma"

"Well he's not in a coma anymore, so she can stay-right?" James wasn't really sure why he was arguing, because the outcome made little difference to him. As brutal as it sounded, it was Albus he was worried about, not Lily. He just needed to vent some frustration, and if that was towards his parent, so be it. "She doesn't really understand what's going on." Harry answered.

"Does anybody?" James asked, before burying his head in his hands.

"Well we haven't really…"

"Told her that her brother went berserk and killed someone?" James finished.

"Don't say that!" Ginny cried.

"Why?."

"This isn't his fault."

"I never said it was. Doesn't change the fact though, does it? I'm just… I'm scared for him. What if he turns into something… really horrible? I'm scared."

Ginny took her eldest into her arms. "We all are, love, we all are."

For the second time that night, Harry felt his eyes welling up, but he restrained himself again. Like McGonagall said, he had to stay strong for Albus.

"How long's he been asleep for?" James asked, pulling his head from Ginny's embrace.

"Not long, but I don't expect he'll be out for more than an hour. He can't be very comfortable like that." Ginny muttered sympathetically.

"It's not fair. How can they do that to him?" James said.

"They're just worried," Harry explained, diplomatically. "They're just worried that something could happen, like.. Like last time."

"Last time?"

"They mean like you-know-who." Ginny butted.

"But he wouldn't. Not Albus." James didn't sound convinced of his own words.

"The person who attacked us all in the shack wasn't Albus."

For the next few moments, nobody spoke. At one point Albus stirred, but promptly dropped off back to sleep.

"What was it like." James asked, cautiously. "In the shack with Albus?"

"I don't think even he knew who he was. He didn't recognise me, and didn't answer to his name. He attacked everyone in the room, and killed that man without a second thought. Then Dawkins' team appeared, and tried to…" He trailed off, feeling unable to say the words. "He ordered them to kill him."

James gasped in shock.

"After that he attacked everyone; including me. If I hadn't caught him off guard, he'd have gotten me in an instant. The ministry are worried, because, because if Albus learned to embrace that, he'd be unstoppable." Harry was groaning slightly as he spoke; the memory almost too traumatic to recall.

"We'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen again." James said, putting his hand on his father's chest, comfortingly. "Won't we?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Two days later, Harry and Ginny were packed, ready to go to St. Mungo's. They would have packed for Albus too, but he had nothing to take with him. A semi-permanent had been established on the fourth floor, for as long as Albus would need it. It would be consolidating to think his private room was a courtesy, from the Ministry, because of what they were putting him through. In reality, they just didn't want anybody to know what they were putting him through.

The four Potters crowded around his hospital wing bed, each one looking as sullen as the last. If possible, James was looking more angry than Albus. Even though he only showed it at times like this, James cared about his brother, and the prospect of not seeing him until Christmas , considering he situation, was bleak.

Albus had barely said a word all morning. The only place he wanted to be right now, was at home, in Grimmauld Place. That, unfortunately, was not an option. He hadn't eaten much of his breakfast, mainly because he was sick of being fed by his father. It was humiliating, and made him feel two years old again. With the restraints on, there was no other option.

It was nine-fifty in the morning, ten minutes until Dawkins was scheduled to arrive. Apparently he was going to 'escort' them to St Mungo's, even though they were only going by floo powder.

Right now, there wasn't a person in the Potter family, that didn't harbour a grudge against that man.

Very little had happened since Albus had awoken two days previously. Albeit, Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione, and their two children had visited yesterday, with Lily, but Albus was trying not to remember that.

It had been horrible looking at them; he'd felt so guilty. Especially Rosie; the two of them had been friends for ages.

Dawkins, had visited at about five P.M each day, probably to check he hadn't killed anybody else. Either way, he never stayed for long.

The only other person to ever visit was madam Pomfrey, every six hours, with her needle. As mad as it sounded, Albus actually looked forward to it, because it was the only time of the day (excluding _very_ awkward showers) the straps were taken off. It was physically impossible to inject his backside, when he was strapped down. He wasn't even allowed to get up for the toilet that often, as Dawkins had ensured a catheter was inserted.

Madam Pomfrey had explained that the physical pain shouldn't last too long. She'd said it was a physical reaction to the physical change his body went through, though nobody really knew what that was.

"Are you gonna write to me?" Albus spoke for the first time that morning, directing the question towards his older brother.

James, relieved at the chance to talk to his brother, said "Every day," without a moment's hesitation.

"Well, I'll work out a way of writing back. Even though…"

James nodded, sympathetically.

Albus laughed, trying to make out he didn't care, yet failing, quite spectacularly.

Then he spontaneously burst into tears. "What am I going to do?" He cried, before a thin set of arms wound their way around him. He looked up, expecting to see Harry, but instead saw James, embracing in a tight hug.

"Listen to me Al," he said, very calmly. "You're going to go to St. Mungo's and get better, whether it takes a few months, or all year. And if you want me, all you have to do is call, and I'll come running, faster than the speed of night, whatever the hell McGonagall thinks. Alright?"

Albus nodded.

"Now I'm going to need you to be really, really brave for me. Can you do that?"

Again, Albus nodded, whilst James dried his hands.

At that moment, there was a soft tap at the huge double doors, and Professor McGonagall walked in, escorting Dawkins.

"Mornin,'" Dawkins asked, trying to make friendly conversation.

Nobody answered.

"Not to rush you guys or anything, but I'm a busy man, and St. Mungo's is waiting." Dawkins continued, displaying his obvious lack of tact for the situation.

James rolled his eyes, and gritted his teeth, but whipped off Albus' duvet, and carefully unclasped the restraints all the same. He felt a sense of short-lived satisfaction, as he did so.

Slowly, Albus stood up, aware that was something his muscles were no longer used to doing. He looked at Dawkins, and said, "Ok, let's get this over with."

He began walking over to the man, as Harry, Ginny, and Lily stood up.

After rummaging around in his pocket, Dawkins pulled out a shiny pair of handcuffs, and said, "I'm gonna have to put these on you," with such sincerity that Albus was almost convinced he cared. Fat chance.

"What-no!" James cried, outraged at the declaration. "Can't you leave him alone for five minutes, without chaining him up like some sort of delinquent!" He practically screamed at Dawkins.

"Mr Potter." Professor McGonagall warned.

"No, don't Mr Potter me; this man's sick. Well if you want to cuff him, you'll have to get through me first." James said, somehow directing it at the head teacher, and the Ministry Auror at the same time.

"James, it's fine, just drop it. I'll put on the cuffs, okay." Albus called James, who grudgingly moved out of the way.

Then the two brother's embraced in a heart-warming hug, which could be returned for the first time that week.

"Bye James," Albus said, so just the two boys could hear.

"I'll see you at Christmas," James replied, before letting his brother go, and glaring, once more at Dawkins, just for good measure. "And remember," he added, "If you need anything, whatever it is, just call."

Albus nodded gingerly, before walking over to Dawkins, and placing his wrists in the air.

As Dawkins wrapped the handcuffs tightly around Albus' wrists, he spoke, very quietly, almost like a whisper into his ear, "That man you killed last week was my partner, Potter." I'll get my own back on you one way or another, you mark my words." Then he pressed the right cuff an extra notch tighter, just to prove his point.

It was all Albus could do to stop whimpering in pain, but he still had some pride left after the last two days. With it, he jutted out his chin, ever so slightly, gazed deeply into man's cold eyes, and said:

"You don't scare me."

Dawkins pushed Albus as viciously as he could into the fireplace, without making it look obvious, and with one hand on the ten year old's shoulder, and the other on a pinch of floo powder, muttered "St. Mungo's."

Then there was a flash of green light, and they were gone.

The private ward, on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's hospital for Magical Melodies and Injuries, was in one word, small.

The fireplace had been situated on the ground floor of the hospital, which meant Albus, after waiting for his family to follow, had to suffer the humiliation of being escorted to his ward, whilst the onlookers stared, unforgivingly. He couldn't blame them; you didn't see a ten year old handcuffed every-day.

Luckily, the stares wouldn't come around too often; his private ward meant no annoying onlookers. The whole Potter family knew they'd only been given the room on orders from the ministry. Apparently, they were trying to keep Albus 'offense' quiet, which was understandable, considering the uproar that would come of it.

The only bad thing about his private ward, would be the lack of company. Albeit, Harry had been given a week off work, but after that he'd only be allowed to come down in the evenings. Lily was due to start her fifth year at primary school the following day, meaning she and Ginny would be unable to visit often.

In short, Albus would he spending much of the next few months alone, strapped to a bed, with only a team of under-paid, craggy healers to keep him company.

The three Potters, and Dawkins slipped discreetly into the room, pleased there hadn't been too many questions, asked on the way up, despite the inconvenient stares. Swiftly, Dawkins pulled off the handcuffs, and watched as Albus laid obediently on the bed.

Dawkins raised an eyebrow, not expecting the boy to be so submissive. He must have a plan, he figured.

Yes, that was it, the child had a plan.

He leant steadily over the bed, and fastened the straps around Albus' wrists and ankles, making sure they were pulled extra tight.

Unfortunately for him, Harry had seen the marks that the taught handcuffs has made on his son, and was determined not to let it go any further.

"Dawkins, loosen them off." Harry instructed.

"It's a necessary precaution." The Auror replied, frostily.

"I understand the need for the restraints, Dawkins, but there is a line between what's necessary, and what's torture. You just crossed it, no BACK OFF MY SON!"

Knowing that he had little chance of winning the argument, Dawkins let go of Albus, and made for the door. "I'll be back later to check your… progress," he muttered, before disappearing past the door.

The second Dawkins had left, Albus looked at his father, and said, "You didn't tell me the guy I killed was his father."

"What did he say to you?" Harry blurted out, as he walked over to Albus' bed, and adjusted the straps.

"Oh, nothing much," Al replied innocently, although there was no hiding the fear in his tone.

"Albus." His father's stern eye was enough to get him talking.

"He just said he'd get his own back on me one way or another." Albus shrugged as best he could, with his arms pinned down, trying to seem like he didn't care.

"I'm tempted to give that idiot a piece of my mind," Harry said, before finishing the final strap, and sitting back down.

"Nah, he's not worth the effort." Al said. "Besides, it's what he wants; a confrontation."

"What did you day?"

"I just said he didn't scare me."

"Does he?"

"Of course he does; the nutter wants to kill me," Albus answered, very seriously, "But I can't let him know that."

Harry nodded very proudly at his son.

Two Weeks Later

Surprisingly, Albus had had so many visitors over the last few weeks, that he was beginning to value those precious few moments he had alone. Everybody from Hagrid, to Granddad Weasley, and the Minister for Magic himself had come, and he was starting to lose patience with it all.

He must have recounted their cover story over twenty times (although not to the minister, who had to know the truth), and the only person he wanted to see, was at Hogwarts, and wouldn't be visiting until Christmas.

The only comfort, was James was probably missing him as much as Albus was.

It was about four O' clock, when the door opened. "Is it that time already?" Albus muttered sarcastically, "Doesn't time fly when you're having fun?" He was of course referring to the regular injections he was being subjected to. He no longer looked forward to these occasion, mainly because his butt felt like it had been rubbed raw. And his vein would probably explode, if it was penetrated many more times.

"Fine, I'll go then," a young, female girl said, smiling. Albus looked up, to see his cousin, Rosie, standing there.

Alone.

Great, he thought; Rosie was practically his best friend. He had no desire, whatsoever for her to see him like this.

"Where are your parents?" Albus asked, as Rosie came in, and gave him a gentle hug.

"I wanted to come down and see you on my own." She said, "We don't really get any time to talk when Mum and Dad are here."

"No," Albus agreed, though unsure whether or not this was a bad thing. "You just came from school," he observed; Rosie was in the uniform their primary school had adopted.

"Y' know it's dull without you there." Rose muttered. The two had been in the same class for the last three years, and spent most of the lessons sat together. Now, Rosie was to spend much of the next few months, and possibly longer, sat alone.

"That makes me feel so much better." Al moaned, sarcastically.

"Well what do you want me to say, that we're all having the time of ourselves without you?" Rosie countered.

"Yeah, that's be great actually."

Awkward silence.

"What's happened to you Al?" Rosie asked, with a kind, yet exasperated tone. "And why does it seem like half the Ministry wants to ship you off to Azkaban?"

"Well that's new, where did you hear that?" Albus asked, genuinely surprised; he'd heard nothing about Azkaban.

"Yours isn't the only Dad who works at the Ministry," Rosie pointed out. "Let's say he's not very good at keeping floo conversations private." She grinned. "Anyway, they've got you tied up, haven't they? It shouldn't be _that_ hard to believe."

"I told you before," Albus began, repeating the cover story he and Harry had coined on their arrival here, "Some idiot ex-death eater possessed me. These-" he motioned towards his bindings, "Are merely a precaution in case he tries again. Anyway, like I said, it was my idea, not the Ministry. They'll catch him soon, and then I can come back to school again."

"Oh shut up." Rosie protested. "It's bullcrap the lot of it! And you know it is. I've read up on possession; you don't go into a coma for a week after it, and then spend the next two weeks in St. Mungo's, after he's left. Plus, I overheard Aunt Ginny talking to Mum and Dad, saying that you're gonna be here until Christmas. At least. Which you wouldn't know if it was all dependent on finding this jerk. And if we were going to ignore all that, and pretend that I believe you, then why did your father spend the first two weeks with you, rather than hunting down him?" It was only when she stopped that she realised how fast and loud she'd been speaking.

"I was in a coma for God's sakes Rosie, what was he supposed to do?" Albus knew he was losing, but he wasn't planning on giving up without a fight. Besides he didn't want Rosie to know the truth. She'd probably never speak to him again.

"Which brings us back to my first point-you don't go into a coma after being possessed. Ignoring the fact that, no offense, nobody would want to possess you anyway."

Albus didn't laugh. "Fine," He fumed. "I'll tell you what happened, but don't expect me to sugar coat it. And don't tell anyone I told you."

"My lips are sealed."

"Basically," I followed Dad to some shack with a load of death eaters in it…" Albus began.

Rosie gasped, "You didn't!"

"Are you going to let me finish or not?"

"Sorry."

"Then. I turned berserk. I completely forgot who I was, who everybody was, my family, everything. I started attacking people with powers I didn't even know I had. I just blinked and things happened. I attacked everyone, death eaters, Aurors. Dad."

Another gasp.

"There was about twenty aurors, I was unstoppable. Dad only stunned me off my guard. If I'd hesitated any longer, I'd have killed him in an instant. Like… like I killed one of the aurors."

Even Rose's superior mind couldn't have predicted this. "I thought you had a fight with a muggle, and used some stupid magic or something… I never thought you… you…"

"Killed someone?" Albus asked, before adding, "Well I did, which is why half the Ministry wants my guts, and I have to wear these because… because it's what I deserved."

"Don't say that Al," Rosie stroked his forehead, maternally. "Like you said, you lost control of who you were. There's nothing you could have done. Whatever happened was controlling you. If it helps at all, I made up the part about Azkaban."

"I didn't."

"What?" The fear in her voice was apparent in the one syllable.

"Look, Rosie, nobody knows what happened to me. Nobody know when or if it will happen again, and nobody knows what will happen if it does. That's why I'm here, indefinitely, surviving on crappy St. Mungo's food, which is being fed to me as if I were three years old, and having my arse prodded like a pincushion."

Rosie grimaced.

"I'm dangerous Rosie, and I can't leave until everyone's a hundred per cent sure I'm safe. And if it's proven that I'm one hundred per cent not safe, then certain… measures will be taken to ensure that the threat is extinguished."

She gasped again, the truth finally dawning on her. "So they really would send you to Azkaban?"

"Rosie, Azkaban wouldn't hold me for long, you didn't see me that day."

Rosie raised an eyebrow, confused.

"When the team of Auror reinforcements arrived, the leader ordered them to kill me."

For a moment, there was a shocked silence, before Rosie promptly fainted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**A/N Sorry it's been so long… kinda lost track of what I'd written… This is dedicated to Aria, my anonymous reviewer, who's review made my day, and inspired me to write more. Thanks to all my other reviews. You rule.**

24th December.

Albus had spent much of the last four months, hoping against hope that he'd be happily home on this day.

It was stupid of him, though, really, to be optimistic in the midst of such dark times.

He'd have liked to say, that the last four months had gone past like lightning, but in reality, it had been the most long, and tedious four months of his life. Not to mention boring.

He had, however, been looking forward to Christmas for a while. He hadn't seen his brother since September, and missed him greatly.

Admittedly, Rosie had made brilliant company. They had become, if possible, even closer over Albus' stay in St. Mungo's. Their primary school was quite literally, ten minutes away from the hospital, so she would arrive, promptly, at four o' clock every afternoon, after school, and would stay until nine or ten o' clock at night. She would sometimes even wake up as early as five o' clock, the following morning, to come and see him before going to school. At weekends, she stated late on a Saturday night, and wake up the following morning to find she'd dropped off to sleep, on the soft bed, her head resting on Al's shoulder.

How Aunt Hermione, and Uncle Ron were able to tolerate her only being home to sleep (occasionally), was a mystery to Albus, but he greatly appreciated it. He didn't think he'd have got through the last few months without her.

Term had finished late that year, which meant James was scheduled to arrive at five-thirty that day.

It was now five o' clock, and Albus was practically bursting with excitement.

"Do you think he'll have changed?" Albus buzzed to Rosie, who was sitting in the chair to the left of his bed.

Rosie's school had broken up for the Christmas holidays, two days previously, so she had spent the best part of yesterday, (seven am, until nine pm.) and today (she'd arrived at five-thirty!) in Albus' private ward .

Albus had been asleep when she arrived, as he had most mornings, but she didn't mind. He was only ever truly peaceful in his sleep, though only God knows what kind of nightmares he'd been having.

That, was a subject he refused to discuss, even with Rosie. He told her most things, much to his parents' contempt. He hadn't been able to keep it from them long, how much he'd told her. They'd been annoyed, but not furious; they understood how much he needed somehow to be there for him, when they couldn't.

"Dear God Al, he's only been gone a few months!" Rosie giggled.

"It feels like a millennium!" Albus joined in the giggling.

Ginny, Harry, and Lily had gone to meet James at the station, so they'd probably end up arriving a little late (it was Harry driving, after all.)

"Anyway, it's time for your injection," Rosie changed the subject, whilst eyeing the clock.

Albus groaned.

Over the period of time, Rosie had been taught by a variety of healers, how to administer the dose herself. They hadn't wanted to, but Albus would have much rather her do it, than one of the moody healers. Not that it wasn't awkward, but it was better than the alternative. The healers had been reluctant to do it at first, but Albus was getting very good at guilt trips.

Whilst Albus tried, (and for the millionth time, failed) to come up with a half-decent reason why they should leave it (Just this once!), Rosie began undoing his restraints.

When all four had been sufficiently loosened off, Albus stood up and stretched, elaborately. Those precious few moments, were all ever seemed to get standing up, so he was going to make it count.

"Hm-hm," Rosie murmured, almost a full minute after he stood up.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Albus said, before lying back down on the bed this time with his stomach facing the mattress.

Careful not to aggravate any existing wounds, Rosie slowly peeled back the waistband of Albus pyjama bottoms. Then she located a patch of skin that hadn't been stabbed recently, wiped it with an antiseptic cloth, and delicately inserted the needle. Albus gritted his teeth; rule one of hospital life: getting your butt stabbed hurts.

She'd managed to get about half of the potion in, when she heard a shout from behind him.

"My lord Albus, you could have given us some warning!"

Upon hearing the noise, Rosie unintentionally jolted the needle upward in surprise, making Albus scream in genuine agony.

"Aaargh!" he yelled, as Rosie roughly completed the injection, and whipped the waistband back up.

They both turned around to see James standing there, looking slightly guilty.

"James, don't scare me like that!" Rosie scolded him.

"Urm sorry."

There was a pause for a moment, as they each took in James' presence. Apparently the train had arrived early.

The Albus leapt off his bed, and pulled his older brother into a warm embrace.

"I missed you." Albus said.

"Yeah, I missed you too, little bro."

They stayed like that for almost a full minute, during which the rest of the Potter family appeared at the door, grinning. It was the first time the boys had seen each other for ages, and it was clear now, and only now, how agonising the wait had been."

Rosie stood back, admiring the bond the boys had. However close she got with Albus, her connection could never replace James, which is something he could never wish for. They were so happy…

While it lasted.

Eventually they let each other go, looking slightly sheepish, yet still managing to smile warmly at each other.

"So how's Hogwarts?" Albus asked, casually, while perching on the side of his bed.

"It's cool," James said, somewhat offhandedly, with very little conviction, before starting on something he clearly found far more compelling. "You'll never guess what pillock we saw downstairs."

"Dawkins?" Albus guessed, knowing full well he was planning on visiting around this time.

"Yep." James replied, with obvious contempt in his tone.

"If he's coming, we'd better get you strapped up, before he sees you." Rosie noted, trying not to think of the consequences of that happening.

Rolling his eyes, Albus laid back down on his bed with an obvious scowl on his face. Just because it was necessary, didn't mean he had to like it. Not that he would want them off either. He hated them, but he hated more, the fear of what he could do to everyone if they stayed off. He watched submissively, as Rosie re-fastened his limbs in place, and pulled the duvet back over him.

Groaning, he looked upwards, and saw James' face pale instantly, white as if he were in shock. He pointed at Albus, gaping, and tried to say something.

For a moment, Albus looked puzzled at James' concern, before quickly figuring it out; James had expected the straps to be off by now.

Actually, judging by the look on his face, he probably hadn't expected the straps to come back on at all, after he left Hogwarts.

A second later, Dawkins appeared, in the doorway, which was unfortunate on his part, because James had just got his voice back…

"Why the hell have you still got my brother tied up like a fucking criminal!" He screamed in Dawkins' face, before thrusting his wand towards the man's throat.

Dawkins looked down at the twelve year old (his birthday had been last month), and merely raised an eyebrow. "In case it's slipped your notice kid, your brother killed someone. That's pretty criminal in my books."

"James, drop it." Albus muttered, beginning to notice somewhat of a recurring pattern, between James and Dawkins.

"You arrogant, self-obsessed…"

"James." Harry warned, aware that eight year-old Lily shouldn't be hearing whatever insult James decided to pluck from his vast array. Emphasis on vast.

With that, James stormed out of the room.

"James!" Albus cried desperately, to no avail..

The visitors' tea room wasn't the first space you'd expect a twelve year old to retreat to, after threatening to curse a ministry official, but Harry found him there. Eventually. Albeit, it had taken him half an hour, but, he found him.

James was sitting in the corner table, with a steaming mug of coffee, alone. He looked like he wanted to stay that way, but Harry walked over, and sat opposite him.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Didn't really give me much choice there, did you?" James muttered, bitterly, whilst taking a sip from the cup.

"Look, I know the situation with Albus is bad…"

"No, it's not bad. Bad would be he spent the last four months there. This, is he spent the last few months there, without even being able to move, and he's still gonna be stuck there, even longer. This isn't bad, this is fucking…" he broke off, his voice quivering.

"James, you can't break down in front of him, it's not fair."

"I didn't, I came down here, and broke down instead."

"If you can't hold it together, what kind of message is that giving Albus?"

For a moment, James looked solemn, before nodding, regretfully. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just expected there to be some progress already. I want my brother to be okay again, and I can't help looking at him like that, and thinking he won't be. Ever."

"James, you can't think that."

"Why? It's not like everyone else isn't?" suddenly James' coffee became suddenly less tasty.

"It's not like that..." Harry protested.

"Yes it is! Nobody has the faintest idea whether this will kill him or not, and if Dawkins will keep him alive, even if it doesn't. Four months hasn't changed jack shit!"

"James, calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down." James was on his feet now, shouting in his father's face. "You don't know what it's like; you don't care!"

Several heads were turning around in the tea room, to watch this father-son feud.

"That's not fair!" Harry yelled back, temperamentally. "I'm worried out of my bloody head as well you know."

"How can you sit back, and let this happen, to your son of all people?"

"You think I asked for this? You think I wished this upon him, is that it?"

"Yeah, maybe I do-'cause you're doing me a pretty crap job of showing me otherwise."

More heads, more awkward stares.

"I do have a job to keep, you know!"

"AND I HAVE A BROTHER TO KEEP!" Quite suddenly, he kicked the leg of that table, sending it and the mug of coffee spilling over the floor.

Then he stormed out.

Shortly after Harry and James left, Lily and Ginny decided to go up and visit the hospital shop, leaving Albus and Rosie, once again, alone.

"What do you think is James' problem?" Rosie murmured, as soon as they left.

"Oh, I dunno," Albus muttered, sarcastically, "maybe," he feigned deep thought, "his brother's gonna die."

"Shut up Al, you're not gonna die." Rosie countered, with just hint of disbelief in her tone. Virtually undetectable

"Yeah?" Albus asked, chuckling. "Go tell that to James."

"Tell James what?" James appeared by the doorway, looking half amused, and half confused.

"Speak of the devil," Rosie muffled, darkly.

"I take it Dad found you then?" Albus grinned.

"What did you do?" Albus and Rosie asked, in perfect unison.

"Nothing; we had a nice, innocent conversation about… the weather. Yeah, the weather." James lied. Badly.

A single second of their cold stares broke him. "Okay, okay. You two have been spending way too much time together." We had an argument which culminated, quite grippingly in a mug of coffee flooding the floor. That and a table, anyway."

"James!" Rosie called, reprovingly, whilst Albus laughed.

"It's not funny Albus," she scolded.

"Well, what were you arguing about?" Albus asked, in his most acquitted voice. Though he already knew the answer.

"Nothing much…" James wasn't going to talk about his in front of his brother.

"James, I know you were talking about me, so you might as well tell me now, and save us all an argument which we'll both know I'll win." Albus drawled, somewhat sarcastically.

"There wasn't really a point to it; I just needed to shout at someone. I said loads of crap, about Dad, and he defended himself, and that was it."

"So who do you really want to shout at? 'Cause somehow I don't think Dad's the biggest problem here."

"Dawkins." James muttered, simply. "I hate him, so much. I just want to curse him to bloody oblivion for what he's done… doing. And the sick thing is, he doesn't care. He just goes to work every day, does the normal stuff, and doesn't bat a fuckin' eyelid."

"It's me the guy hates, James, there's no point in making an enemy of yourself."

"What? You expect me to go and chum up with the guy who's been trying to kill you for the last four months?" James practically screamed.

"OI!" Albus retorted, in an increasingly loud and obnoxious tone, "Don't bring your tantrum in here! If anyone's gonna be shouting, it's me. Or have you forgotten which one of us is strapped to his deathbed?"

At that, James' forehead instantly paled. "No, Al, I didn't mean…"

"For God's sakes Albus, you're not gonna die!" Rosie said, exasperated, as if she'd had this conversation many times.

Slowly James moved closer to his brother, and adopted a calm, reassuring voice. He said: "Albus, I am not going to let Dawkins kill you. If it means I'll have to run away with you, and then go into hiding, that's what we'll do."

"Don't be stupid James." Albus muttered. "I'm dangerous, I'll probably end up killing you if you take me out of these."

"No, you won't."

"I Almost killed Dad last time."

Stunned silence.

"Albus, you can't keep going on about that. You weren't in control. There was nothing you could have possibly done to change what happened, and you need to accept that. "James crouched over his brother, who just glared at him.

"Whatever."

"Well you're not going anywhere without me, that's for sure." Rosie muttered, butting her way into the conversation.

"Huh?" James grunted, confused.

"You're not running away with Albus, without taking me. You'll need more than half a brain between you." She smirked.

"Hey!" James protested, whilst Albus stayed silent.

"You wouldn't last a week," Rosie accused.

"Yes, I would," James laughed, whilst he argued playfully with his younger cousin.

"Nobody's gonna be running away anywhere," Albus muttered, raining very slightly on their parade.

"Exactly," Rosie added on, "Because Albus is gonna be alright again real soon, isn't he?"

No answer.

Harry had been to many important meetings, in his career as an Auror, but so far, none had been at St. Mungo's, and none had concerned his own son.

He marched proudly towards the small conference room, wearing his dress robes, and carrying Ginny on his arm. James followed, looking slightly out of his depth. He'd only been allowed to attend, after apologising repeatedly for the outburst, and promising it won't happen again. Many of the adults in the room, including Dawkins, and the team of healers who had been working with Albus since September, looked shocked to see James. Not that he cared; preferring to adopt an indignant expression, and glaring away any confusion.

The three Potters sat quickly around the large table in the centre, and looked expectedly towards Dawkins. "Please tell me you guys know something." Harry moaned.

Dawkins scowled, slightly quizzically toward Harry, but spoke anyway, "Since our last meeting a month ago, we've managed to confirm that your son is definitely the source of power we tracked in late July." He spoke formally, yet the irritance in his voice was clear.

"That doesn't make sense." James interrupted. "Albus didn't… y'know until September the first. It can't be him, plain and simple."

"These kinds of things take a little while to manifest themselves," Ginny explained, softly. "If the Ministry say they've confirmed it, then they have."

James folded his arms, moodily, whilst glaring at Dawkins.

"For starters," Dawkins explained, "The power has significantly decreased since the child started raking Madam Pomfrey's… concoction. The Department of Mysteries had also confirmed that the power spike was most active on the day Albus killed Warrer." He spoke matter of factly, as if he had this conversation daily, "Due to the time that it took for the magic to manifest itself, various calculations have proved that the user is a similar age to Albus. If you don't regard this as sufficient evidence, we can run further tests, but…"

"No," Harry interrupted, morbidly, "I can take a hint. I think it's safe to assume that Albus is the person you're looking for."

James looked like he'd been slapped.

"James dear," Ginny said, "Albus is likely to get better quicker, if we know what we're dealing with."

He didn't look convinced.

"Do we know what caused it yet, or how the bloody hell we stop it?" Harry seemed to be channelling his son's anger, into blatant impatience.

One of the more timid healers piped up, "We have a theory, but if we're right, then solving the problem isn't going to be as easy as we first thought."

"Just get on with it."

"We think Albus' condition is… genetic."

"What!" Harry and Ginny said together.

"That's ridiculous." James interjected. "None of my family have that kind of power. Not even Dad."

He looked sympathetically towards his parents who seemed to be in shock.

"It's progressive," a healer remarked simply, before looking at the Potters' blank expressions. "Means it gets stronger."

"I think you might be right," Harry said, to everybody's surprise.

"Okaaay," the healer seemed unsure.

"When Voldemort," Harry began, before being interrupted by a rude shudder, running down the length of the room, and gasps of "Don't say the name."

Harry rolled his eyes, and continued, "Tried to kill me when I was a baby, he inadvertently transferred much of his dark magic to me, hence why I was once able to speak parseltongue. The only problem with this theory, is the magic left me, eighteen years ago. I haven't been able to speak parseltongue since."

"The dark magic may have left your body," the healer remarked, "But I don't think it totally left your DNA."

Harry gulped.

"So you're basically saying," James started, before swallowing hard." "That my brother has the powers of Lord Voldemort."

I'd say that's it, in a nutshell yes."

Even Dawkins couldn't smile at that.

"So what do we do?" Harry urged. "How do we stop it?"

The healers looked totally blank.

"I think we're a little out of our depth here." One piped up.

"She's right," Dawkins agreed. "We need to speak to the Minister about this, as soon as possible. This changes everything."

It was that night when the nightmares started.

Albus got to sleep at around ten o' clock, after bidding his family goodnight. He fell quickly into a deep slumber, and started dreaming soon after…

The room was completely black, totally opposite to the hospital walls he'd been staring at for so many months. There was no furniture, and no bed. Only shadows. Shadows that danced around Albus, threateningly, even daring to leap up on occasion.

For the first time in ages, Albus felt free. The restraints were gone, and he was able to walk around as he pleased. There was no greater feeling.

Then, out of the shadows, came a shape. The shape of something human, something alive.

Something evil.

It writhed, like a snake, and slithered out of the corner.

Albus couldn't tell how tall it was; it crouched, and curled too much to gauge. Though it was obvious the thing was no taller than Albus himself.

The veins in its neck, and faced danced about their sockets. They shook in their places, moving up and down, as if to a beat.

Albus then looked up, down into the creatures cold eyes. They were pitch black. The image was oddly familiar, he pondering, unable to remember the reason for such familiarity.

Then it hit him.

The creature was him. The him that killed Dawkins' partner. They were two of the same person, meeting only in Albus' dreams.

It was the exact same height as him, with the same deep, brown hair, mopped upon its head. A spitting image, but for the eyes.

He moved ever closer to the menacing creature. It's head was cocked ever slightly to the side, as if curious. It wasn't humane; like a wild creature, trapped in the body of a human, having no idea what to do with it.

"Wh-what do you want?" Albus stammered, trying to seem in control, yet failing, dismally.

He could feel it. He could virtually see, and breathe through its body, simultaneously with his own. Of course; they were one and the same.

"I want you," It hissed, then writhed, as if the physical act of speaking caused it physical pain. "I want your body, your sssoul."

Albus was taken aback. He didn't expect it to speak. "What are you?"

The thing shifted its head, even further to the side, and extended its neck. "I, am you."

"No…" Albus denied it, desperately, "You can't be me, I'm not like you. I didn't do all those things; killed that man. I wouldn't… I'm good."

It cackled; a demented creature, as if it knew something he didn't, and revelled in the knowledge; the superiority. "No Albusss Ssseverusss, I am most definitely you. You turned evil. You killed a man, and you…" it took a long sniff, "Enjoyed it."

"No!" Albus screamed at it. He edged backwards, as sheer terror shook his face. It moved closer to him, slithering its snake-like body around. "You're evil, Albusss."

"I'm not like you. I wouldn't kill… never."

"Oh, but Albusss, you are like me. You are me, and I am you. And killing is good."

"No!" Albus cried again, and again. "I'm good, no… no"

It advanced further, coming closer, and closer. It writhed, and jolted, as he protested. It dominated him, taunting, and raging.

"No! No… Please… stop." Albus panted, before it leant over him, one final time…

"Albus! Wake up!"

His eyes jolted open, and he looked directly at his cousin and best friend; Rosie.

He was pale; dripping with sweat. His breath came out in short, accentuated bursts, and he was shaking. There was a brief moment, when remembered nothing, before the memory of the dream came rushing back to him. It couldn't have been him. It just couldn't…

"Albus, what happened?" Rosie asked, delicately, whilst stroking his sodden hair away from his face. The long strands were draped, dripping with sweat, over it.

"I… It… It was just a nightmare, okay?" Albus rested his head against the pillow, and tried to relax, as much as possible. It was more than just a nightmare; it felt so … realistic. He knew he should talk about it, but nobody would understand. Or even believe him.

"Albus, you've been muttering in your sleep for the last half hour now. You just kept saying 'no' and 'I'm not like you,' over and over again. This wasn't any kind of nightmare. I only woke you up, because you sounded like you were having a fit."

"I'm fine, Rosie." He looked around, aimlessly, and saw the room was pitch black, save for the bedside lamp, which was turned on dimly. "What time is it? He asked, absent-mindedly.

"One in the morning," she replied, flippantly. "But that's beside the point…"

"Rosie, you should be home! It's Christmas bloody eve."

"No," she corrected, "It was Christmas eve an hour ago. Now it's Christmas day. Happy Christmas by the way."

"Rosie, don't get me wrong, I love you being here, but you need to spend Christmas with your family."

"You are my family."

"You know what I mean."

"And who are you going to spend Christmas with?" Rosie challenged.

"Dad, Mum, James and Lily are coming down later on."

"Yes, after they've opened all their presents, and eaten Christmas lunch. My parents have each other and Hugo to spend the day with, and none of them are strapped to a bed. You are more deserving of my time."

Albus smirked, very slightly, still looking slightly guilty.

"Oh come here." Rosie leant over the bed, and pulled as much of Albus as she could, into a tight hug.

"Thanks Rosie, it means a lot."

"Anytime Al, anytime."

They held the embrace for almost a full minute, before Rosie pulled away, and turned off the bedside lamp. She snuggled under the duvet with Albus, her head resting on his strapped arm. "We should probably be getting to sleep," she muttered, moments before dropping off. Albus smirked slightly; she was obviously very tired.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the same luxury. The thought of another nightmare like the last, kept him awake, tossing and turning as much as Rosie and the restraints would allow.

He didn't sleep at all that night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N: Well, this was quick, wasn't it. I suppose all I can say is I realised that this story is slowly gaining in popularity. Thank you for everyone who alerted and added this to favourite stories. Very special thanks goes to Maureen M who reviewed the last chapter. Maureen, you're review made my day, and you'll be happy to know I proofread this chapter, so it should be immaculate. I put myself out to get this to you guys quicker, so if you could review for me, I would love you forever.**

Harry and Ginny Potter walked purposefully into the Ministry of Magic, promptly at eight o' clock am, on Christmas day. This time, James had not been with them. He had been dropped off, along with his younger sister, at Ron and Hermione's house, who had arisen early, in order to take care of them. Harry and Ginny were incredibly grateful, for the help and support their friends were providing. This meeting had been planned, at last minute, by Dawkins and the Minister for Magic. The two Potters had been awoken, quite rudely, by the squawking of a high speed Ministry owl, two hours previously. Its letter had summoned them to the Ministry, almost immediately, for an urgent meeting regarding their son. It hadn't been an invitation; it was a requirement that they attend the meeting. Not that they would have wanted to miss it anyway.

Of course, James was furious that he hadn't been allowed to come along; he protested loudly, and copiously. Harry hadn't told him of their reasoning. It was quite simple really; there was quite a substantial chance that the outcome of the meeting would be nothing good, and neither of them wanted to spoil James Christmas. It was bad enough that they wouldn't be able to spend the first part of the day together as it was.

They apparated, directly from Ron and Hermione's house, straight into the main Ministry building. The bricks of the courtyard were, as ever, a beautiful emerald green, though nobody seemed to be noticing it. The whole area, was almost completely deserted, as most regular workers were at home, with their families today. The couple moved, swiftly through the corridors, and down towards the first floor; where the meeting would be held.

They entered the meeting room, after almost ten minutes of manoeuvring around the complex building structure. Harry knew his way well enough, for he worked here on a daily basis, but that didn't make the trip any less lengthy. In the centre of the room, sat a table, much like the one they sat around the previous night, around which were placed the team of healers, and Dawkins, along with the Minister for Magic, and a few official looking Aurors, Harry recognised from the attack on Linder Road, four months previously.

"Mr Potter," the Minister, Clarence Taylor, said, inviting him onto the table. "I'm glad you could make it."

Harry didn't look impressed. "Could we not have done this some other time?"

"I think it's rather urgent that we discuss the matter at hand." Taylor replied, authoritatively.

"Trust me," Dawkins added, "The rest of us want to be here less than you do. But I'm going to visit my mother as soon as this session as adjourned, and have no intention of coming back, until the Twenty-Seventh. This was our best option, if we did not want to wait until then."

Harry rolled his eyes, but had to agree nevertheless.

"So I'm assuming we have discovered the root of young Master Potter's problem," Taylor enquired, looking expectantly towards the team of healers, seated across the table.

"Have you heard the theory?" Harry asked.

"He has been informed," Dawkins answered, with a somewhat snide edge to his voice.

"Oh yeah?" Harry challenged. "And what else have you _informed_ him of?"

"That's enough Mr Potter," Taylor commanded, as Harry looked meek.

"If it is, as we suspect, genetic," a Dawkins explained, looking smug, "Then there is every possibility that, despite our best efforts, his ailment is incurable."

"But there is still every possibility that it _is_ curable." Ginny interjected, almost desperately.

"Our dilemma is," a healer explained, "We do not know if what has happened will happen again, and even if it does, if it will be better or worse. Albus could at any point change into his former state permanently. Anything could happen. The restraints that we have placed upon him are suitable only if he enters that state for a short period of time. Given the level of power demonstrated…"

Dawkins butted in. "Basically, she means the straps that we have Albus under, won't work for long."

"So what are you proposing? That we increase the restraints?" Taylor asked, sceptically.

"That's not fair…" Harry interrupted, only to be cut off again.

"The current state that he's in was appropriate, when we thought it was going to be a temporary problem. We know now, that it will not be. We need to take the right measures to ensure that the threat is controlled permanently."

"You can't listen to a word he says," Ginny practically screamed across the table. "He's had it in for my son since the moment they saw each other."

Dawkins ignored them. "In fact, I recommend that we extinguish the threat totally."

"You can't kill a ten year old boy!" Harry practically screamed.

"Can we have some order please?" Taylor called.

Silence.

"Thank you." He looked around at the two Aurors. "I have no desire, Mr Potter, to take the life of an innocent ten year old..."

Dawkins scoffed.

"But if I am given irrevocable evidence, that it could be him versus the rest of the magical community, then I will take action. Under no circumstances do I want another war on my hands, especially not over the life of one person."

"That one person is my son!"

"Everybody's somebody's son, Mr Potter, and I think it will be a lot more people son's dying, if we do not take action."

"But it's been four months. There is no evidence to assume that Albus could even do that again briefly, never mind permanently."

Taylor nodded in agreement. "You are right, so at the moment, we will keep your son underneath the same conditions he is currently under."

Dawkins cursed, "But sir…"

"However," Taylor spoke over him, "I am going to keep him under very close surveillance. If he has another, even short outburst, then he will be detained, with necessary force, indefinitely."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry spluttered, "Are you gonna chain him up now as well? Is that it?"

"I think we both know even that won't hold him for long." Dawkins explained.

Taylor looked apologetic. "If your son displays even the smallest inkling of such power, I'm going to have him transferred."

"To where?" Ginny spluttered, "We have no other hospitals in this country. Even if we went abroad, St. Mungo's is the best."

"He said nothing about hospitals," Dawkins answered, gleefully.

"He means Azkaban." Harry explained, looking evilly towards the Minister.

Ginny gasped.

"I don't want to have to do this, Mr Potter," Taylor admitted, "So we'll just have to hope it never happens again. I'll have much of the Department of Mysteries working on this case, and despite Mr Dawkins best efforts, I will only consider terminating your sons' life, if his destructive state becomes permanent."

Dawkins scowled.

"Thank you very much, Minister," Harry said, through gritted teeth. He didn't sound thankful at all. "We'll be leaving now." With that he took his wife's arm, and walked, purposefully out of the room.

It was nine o' clock when Rosie awoke that morning. Her head stirred slightly, peacefully, before slowly rising up off the pillow. She blinked her deep brown eyes; flickering them.

Albus was already awake. Or rather, still awake. He hadn't slept at all, since they'd awoken earlier; being too scared of the dream. What would have happened, if he'd been allowed to finish the dream? Would he have woken up at all? He'd been worried sick about the whole affair all morning but now was the time to at least act brave. He didn't want to worry Rosie any more than she already was.

That and he wasn't sure if anybody would really believe him, even if he did talk about it. Dreaming about one's evil counterpart wasn't _exactly_ customary…

"Hey," he muttered, calmly, looking for all the world like last night hadn't happened. If nothing else, this whole ordeal was making him into a very convincing actor.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked, before sitting up as best she could, groggily. Her clothes were rumpled, after being slept in, but she usually had a spare pair, which she would change into later on.

"About… half an hour." Albus decided. He was getting better and better at lying.

"You should have woken me up," She started.

"How?" Albus demanded; "I can't _exactly_ shake your shoulder. And I ain't shouting for the whole damn hospital to hear."

"Oh… yeah." Rosie looked away, edgily.

"You don't have to look so guilty every time this comes up in conversation," Albus sighed; "the straps don't come off when we ignore them."

"You stop thinking about them though."

"Maybe… but."

"It's just not fair to keep reminding you of it." Rosie justified herself.

"Trust me, today, that will not be a problem. Today is just one great big reminder that I'm stuck here. Merry Christmas," he added, morosely.

"Oh stop worrying, Albus," she scolded, punching him lightly on the shoulder, "We'll be getting presents and everything; it'll be great."

"I've already told Dad I don't want anything."

"Why?" Rosie seemed outraged.

"Because I won't be able to open it myself. That's embarrassing. Then I won't be able to use it either, which just makes it pointless. Ultimately, all it's serving to do is remind me that I'm not getting out of this cesspit any time soon."

Rosie shrugged. "Suit yourself. And trust me; you'll be getting out of this place real soon. I overheard some healers talking about it."

"Really?" Albus looked sceptical.

"Well… okay, no I didn't, but it would be stupid to keep you in here any longer. That's just common sense."

"Don't lie to me Rose, I can see right through it, and it doesn't make me feel any better."

Rosie rolled her eyes, and turned towards the door. "I'm going to get something to eat." She pulled a handful of galleons from her handbag. "You want something?"

Albus eyed the money, guiltily. "Nah, I'm good," he lied, once again. "I'll wait until Dad gets here."

"I don't mind you know." She looked at the money. "I've got enough to cover it."

"Trust me," Albus said, "I can do without the humiliation of being fed this early in the morning."

"There's nothing humiliating about it, Al. Besides, you should be used to it, after four months."

"Well I'm not, and I'm never gonna be. I can't even shower alone for God's sake!"

"Yeah, well, I'd like to be there even less than you, but some things are just necessary."

"I'm trying not to think about it." Albus stated. "I love you dearly, but having you escort me to the shower is just disgusting."

"It's either me, or one of the healers," Rosie retorted, making for the door. "Or even worse, your Mum."

Albus cringed.

"Thought so," Rosie grinned. "I'll be back in ten. Behave."

Albus tutted.

It was, indeed, ten minutes later, when Rosie returned from the visitors' tea room. She was holding a cup of tea and had two sausage rolls sprouting from her handbag. She set the drink down on the bedside table, and sat down, pulling out the sausage rolls.

"Please tell me that's not for me," Albus moaned, eyeing the second one.

"Yup," she confirmed, carefully peeling open the plastic, and moving onto the bed next to her cousin. She pointed the food towards his mouth.

"I said I didn't want anything," he said, refusing to let it go past his lips.

"Yes, well, I know when you get hungry," she retorted, "And it's not pretty when you don't eat."

"I didn't say I wasn't hungry," Albus corrected, moodily, "I said I didn't want anything to eat. Big difference."

"I don't care whether you _want_ to eat, you _need_ to eat." Rosie directed the roll even closer to his mouth.

"You sound like my mother," Albus finished before taking a furious bite into the chilled sausage roll.

"That's good; your mother's a very smart woman." She batted away the insult, without a second's thought, whilst he chewed viciously.

"You should tell that to James," Albus advised, after finishing a mouthful.

"Fat chance." Rosie thrust another mouthful past his teeth.

"Careful." He muffled the word out through pastry.

"Just eat."

It was another five minutes, before Albus, (with Rosie's 'help') managed to finish 'breakfast.' It was a tiresome process, one which he had always, and always would hate. It was impossible not to make a mess over the quilt, and it always took twice as long to eat, when he was fed. Apart from the fact, that it was horribly embarrassing. For this reason, he ate as rarely as possible, something Rosie had picked up on. This was inevitably why she had brought something for him, despite his best wishes.

It was worse on days when she was there for an extended period of time, because he couldn't use the excuse 'I ate earlier.' That was probably the only downside to her being around for longer.

Now that Albus' food had been finished, Rosie was sat munching upon her own, whilst occasionally sipping on her morning cup of tea. She was also combing through a magazine, entitled 'Quidditch Today,' which had been brought to pass the time. Albus was reading it over her shoulder, as she turned the pages. Quidditch was a subject they both found interesting. They were considerably adept players, though neither had been able to practice much lately. As a preference, their favourite positions were chaser, though Rosie made a proficient keeper, also.

"The Stallions have been promoted," Albus observed, eyeing a highly decorated column on the right hand side of page six.

"Cool," she looked over to the article, and began reading along. The Stallions were a team they both supported, quite actively, after they had attended a convention, and met the teams' chasers. It wasn't their favourite team, but came close.

"They won against Puddlemere," Rosie added, reading the last paragraph.

"Good, Puddlemere are crap."

"They're not that bad!"

"Whatever."

Rosie didn't bother arguing; it was pointless.

"When do you reckon Dad'll be here?" Albus asked, after a while.

"Well, he said after lunch, so it depends on when you guys usually eat."

"Probably about two." Albus predicted, sounding miserable.

"You really miss him don't you?"

"Who Dad?"

"No, James, you idiot, who else?"

"Oh… right. Yeah I did… do. He's a good brother, even if he does act like an arse half the time. I really wish he could be around more often."

"He loves you," she said, somewhat sorrowfully.

"I know. And I him. I just wish he wouldn't' be so … temperamental. It's not exactly helping the situation. Sometimes he takes things too far. Not that I can really talk." He flexed his wrists against the bindings, to illustrate his point.

"You should stop beating yourself up about that." Rosie closed her magazine, and looked deeply into his eyes. "There really was nothing you could have done."

"Everyone keeps telling me that, but somebody's to blame, and it sure ain't the dead guy."

"And nor is it yours. If you want someone to blame, blame Voldemort."

Albus frowned. "Why; he's dead."

"I meant, because he's so… irrevocably evil, we should just... blame everything on him."

"Don't lie to me. What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing," Rosie insisted.

Albus glared at her.

"Okay, okay," she sighed, "But you're not gonna like it."

"What part of this whole situation am I supposed to like?"

No answer, Rosie just proceeded to explain her point, "Well, I overheard the healers talking yesterday, and… they might know where your power came from."

"What!" Albus spluttered. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

"I am telling you, stupid."

"You didn't want to."

"I didn't want to be the one who told you, because it's crappy news. Harry was going to tell you sometime later in the week, so it didn't ruin your Christmas."

"I don't give a damn about Christmas, just tell me already."

"Well I'm sure you know the story of how Voldemort's powers were transferred to your father at the end of the first war?"

"Yes, and they left him again, at the end of the second," Albus replied, testily, as if to say 'Cut to the chase.'

"Well, it looks like it didn't leave his DNA, and well… you inherited some of it… well quite a large chunk of it actually."

Silence.

Albus' face instantly paled, and tears welled up in his eyes. He laid there, in total silence, almost shock.

"Say something," Rosie begged, her voice threatening to give way.

Albus shook his head, frantically, as more tears rolled down his face.

"Albus…"

Again, he couldn't bring himself to reply.

"Oh, Al…" Rosie bent over, and pulled her cousin into a heart-warming hug.

"What does this mean?" he cried. "I'm gonna turn into… something like him, aren't I?"

"It means… it means this is gonna be harder to fight than we first thought."

"Why not James, or Lily?"

"I think… you drew the short straw."

"I'm never gonna be allowed out, am I?" he cried. "I'm never going to go to Hogwarts or anything, am I?"

"Yes!" she countered, fiercely. "We're gonna fight this, I swear to God, we're gonna fight it."

It was another few minutes before the shock finally wore off, and Albus was able to calm down fully. "So I have the powers of Lord Voldemort." It was more a statement than a question.

"Stronger, I think." Rosie pointed out, "You know how magic gets stronger by generation, and Voldemort was the most powerful of the lot."

Albus looked like he was about to burst into tears again, at that statement, but he managed to keep himself together. Just.

"Look, Al, nobody said this was gonna be easy. But we will beat it, I promise you."

Albus nodded, unsurely, before flopping his head onto the pillow. He closed his eyes, and heard a voice, a faint, faint whisper, in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind…

"Albusss Ssseverusss..."

The Potter family walked into the hospital, as Albus predicted, at two o' clock in the afternoon. The two parents were both looking distressed, over the information given to them by the minister that morning. It wasn't comforting news, but they had to keep on a happy face, so as not to ruin everybody's Christmas. They would have to tell both James and Albus about it, later on, but not today. Of all days, not today.

They marched quickly up to the ward, James giving his younger sister a piggy-back, whilst Ginny and Harry held each other's hand, swinging them in unison.

"Albus!" James screamed, charging towards the bedside, swaying his sister, dizzily. She giggled.

"James," Albus replied, somewhat less excitably, but grinning back all the same. "Calm it." He looked around, acknowledging his parents, "Hi."

"How are you feeling dear?" Ginny asked, maternally.

"I'm fine," Albus lied, "Great actually."

"That's good to hear." She smiled warmly, but couldn't help thinking it wouldn't last.

"Hi Aunt Ginny" Rosie said, to her aunt. ""Happy Christmas; how's your day been?"

"It's been great! " James interjected, "I got a new broomstick; it's so awesome…"

Albus giggled. "James what's going on? I haven't seen you this happy since before you started school."

"That's 'cause you've hardly seen me at all since I started school."

"Fair point. What broomstick did you get?"

"Golden Avid 3000," he explained, proudly. "I was going to bring it along, but mum said no."

"It wouldn't exactly be appropriate in hospital, now would it?" she said, in justification.

James frowned.

"What did you get?" Albus asked a joyous Lily. She had hopped off James' back, and straight off Albus bed, snuggling up to the side that Rosie wasn't already dominating.

"Lily hasn't opened her present yet," Harry exclaimed, looking proudly at his three children, who looked happy in each other's presence for the first time in… he couldn't remember how long. It had been incredibly quiet in the Potter household, without both James and Albus around, recently.

"And we have Rosie's present here," Ginny said, pulling a wrapped gift out of her handbag. "We went to your house last night, but you weren't there. Not that we really expected you to be."

Gratefully, Rosie took hold of her first present of the day, and tore of the wrapping paper. It was, as could be expected, a spell book. Albus tutted; only Rosie would ask for one of those. It had a thick, hardback brown colour, which looked like it had been made out of leather, and golden lettering on the front cover, which read, "The Encyclopaedia of Spells for All Purposes." It was very high quality, and had clearly been purchased from Flourish and Blotts; the only magical bookstore Albus knew that had books like this in stock.

Quickly, she got up, and hugged Ginny, hurriedly, before returning to the perch, and eagerly opening the book. Though it seemed like an absurd gift, Albus did find himself glancing over Rosie's shoulder (only occasionally!) and becoming somewhat captivated by the text, and graphic images that the book had to offer. It had a wide range of spells, basic and advanced, for people of all capabilities, for people of all ages. They amused themselves (he gave into the books inevitable allure after a while) by flicking through the pages, and identifying spells they'd heard parents, and other family use, as well as new ones. Despite his inhibitions, it turned out to be quite fascinating.

"I'm bored," James exclaimed, after his cousins had spent a good ten minutes flicking through Rosie's present. The literature was clearly not enticing him.

"If you wait three hours," Albus replied, with a grin on his face, "Dawkins'll be here. I'm sure he'll get your blood racing."

"Of course he won't," Rosie sounded astonished. "It's Christmas day. Somehow I don't _quite_ think you mean that much to him."

"Grumpy old git like him wouldn't know Christmas if it came and bit him in the arse." Albus mused.

"Language," Ginny scolded.

"No," Harry interjected. "Rosie's right; Dawkins has gone to stay with his mother. He'll be back the day after tomorrow." He looked at everyone's confused stares. "I work with him," he justified, desperately.

"Than what are we waiting for?" James asked, as if the whole room was missing something painfully obvious. "If Dawkins is definitely not coming, then we can take Albus out of the straps."

There was an awkward silence.

"James I don't…" Ginny started.

"C'mon, nothing's gonna happen." He walked over to Albus' bedside, and started unclipping the taut leather.

"Don't be so naïve James; you know exactly what could happen."

"That all happened because of you seeing those death eaters. I don't see any of them, so we'll be fine."

"James," Harry warned, to no avail.

"It could have been anything!" Albus protested. "There's no way for us to know what triggered it. If it happened again, I'd probably kill you all."

James, ignoring him, finished undoing the first strap. "There you go, now tell me that doesn't feel amazing."

Okay, Albus had to admit, considering his limbs weren't let free more than twice a day, it did seem quite liberating. But he was stronger than that.

"James, really, it's not worth the risk. Plus, if anybody saw me, I'd be practically hung on the spot."

Harry and Rose winced at the imagery.

"Oh come on Al, stop being so moody," Lily butted in, as ever, siding with her older brother. The same brother, incidentally, who was now working on Albus' leg strap.

"You try being on Dawkins' hit list." Albus shot back, shortly.

"Albus!" Ginny reprimanded, ever protective of her youngest child.

"Yeah, Al," James agreed. "Leave her alone; she hasn't done anything to you."

"That's right, all gang up on me." Albus rolled his eyes.

"Just loosen up a bit." James pulled open the second strap. "Literally."

"Do you not understand the meaning of 'I could kill you?" Albus scathed.

"Well, I'll die happy, knowing you had a good Christmas."

"James."

"Be serious Al, there hasn't even been an inkling of anything even remotely threatening in four whole months."

"James, I think you should listen to him." Rosie said, agreeing with Albus; what she saw as her duty.

James started on the third strap. "Don't be stupid. He'll love it."

"No I won't, because I'll spend the whole time worrying about what I could do to you."

"You'll do nothing to me. There; nothing to worry about."

"James-" Again Harry was cut off.

"I'll put these right back on before we leave," James explained, before giving a look that clearly said 'Your loss.' "If it makes you feel any better."

"James, please stop." Albus said simply, with as much emotion as possible.

There was a slight pause, during which Albus looked deeply into his brother's eye. "Please."

"Fine. Have it your way." Immediately James started refastening the leather straps. He was angry, furious in fact.

"Thank you."

"Oh don't thank me," James retorted, cruelly, fastening the strap. He moved onto the second one, while Rosie worked on the final one. "It's not really _my_ emotions anybody cares about."

"You're not the guy that turns into a murderous lunatic!"

The guilt trip didn't work. "Which _obviously_ means I don't have feelings. But hey, nobody has to think about me. I'm _only_ James. _Only_ James who had to wait four months to see his brother, then find him tied up like a criminal. _Only_ James, who would give up anything to see you okay again. It's fine, because it's _only_ James, and nobody really cares about him." James and Rosie finished their respective straps simultaneously.

"Stop it James," Harry ordered, as Albus broke into tears.

"Oh, that's right," James said, regardless, "Just cry, like you always do, then everyone will come running, and start moping about how terrible your life is."

Albus couldn't bring himself to reply. The hotness was all he could feel; rising up around him. Rosie was fretting over him now, while Lily merely looked confused.

"Y'know what, come to think of it, I'm sick to death of this. Why should I even care!" You're just the stupid brother who moans at me every morning, judges every little thing I do. You can't take a joke, to save your damn life, and lie about everything, even if it doesn't even benefit you to. Tell me why I should give a damn about you; you never care about anybody else's' feelings."

"James, stop it now." Ginny sounded pissed.

"Why, because I might hurt poor _Albus'_ feelings? It's all about Albus isn't it?"

By now, Albus eyes were pouring, and Rosie looked like she was about to kill. "Leave him alone!" She screamed.

James ignored her.

It was then that Albus heard a faint hissing in the back of his mind. It sounded happy, free… the room was getting hotter, hotter, and hotter. The heat was boiling, shooting straight to his head. Could nobody else feel this! It was unbearable!

"I'm sick of your puny stuck up arse!"

Albus wasn't listening anymore; it hurt too much. The cold words were cutting deep. And the heat… the temperatures were soaring…. So hot it hurt; hurt like a river of lava flowing through him.

He jolted, as much as the restraints would allow, and whimpered. He heard shouts, but they sounded far away; distant. Irrelevant.

He didn't realise what was happening until it was late. He remembered the fatal day on Linder Road four months previously. The same heat, the same pain. He jolted, again and again, so much so, that it was like writhing, writhing like a snake. Writhing in pain, as the darkness surged. The deep, cutting darkness from within, pumped around his body, through his veins, scalding them as they went along. The veins were dancing, jumping out of their places, and slithering around, hissing and spitting.

"Albus!" He heard a cry. So far away…

He couldn't see. His eyes were swimming, almost completely engulfed in blackness. His brow was dripping with sweat, drenching his already dark hair, and pale face.

He could hear shouts of "Albus stop!" and "Calm down," but it was too late. He was slipping away, the lasts remnants of his consciousness falling under.

Then the pain stopped, and he knew what was coming. It was too late to stop; too late to go back. His tears dried, and the emotion was all but gone.

"I'm sorry," was the last thing Albus could bring himself to say, before the tide pulled him under, and Albus was gone. He heard the hissing once again.

The monster was loose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**A/N Thanks to all my reviewers; you all make me want to carry on writing. Especially Blinko, and Just Another Crazy Radical, who reviewed chapter 5. Chapter seven should be up soon.**

"I'm sorry."

Harry heard the words, and immediately knew what was happening. He hadn't seen Albus' changing process last time, only the effects, and they hadn't been nice. In fact, they were a lot like this. Albus' eyes were pitch black, his veins glowed blue, and pulsated. His skin was red hot, as if it were burning, burning from the veins outward.

"Everyone, get out of here!" he screamed, frantically, drawing his wand. His family just looked confused. Especially James, who, in his anger, didn't seem to register the change in his brother, much less recognise it.

"It's happening! Like last time!"

Ginny and Rosie got the message immediately, the brutal realisation echoing in their eyes. Ginny darted over to Lily, and practically ripped her of the bed, pulling her towards the door. "James!" She screamed, "Come on."

It wasn't long before James worked it out as well (the ball of fire, darting past him helped.) A look of shock crossed his face, before he pulled out his wand, and said, bravely, "I'll help."

"James, stop being a prat, and get the hell out of here. It's not safe!" Harry sent a stunner towards Albus, but it was deflected, casually. Even bound, Albus was almost unbeatable. Harry got the idea that the straps wouldn't hold him for long.

Reluctantly, James followed his mother, Lily, and Rosie, to the door, looking terrified.

"Mum what's happening?" Lily asked, as she was dragged out of the room.

"Everything's gonna be fine…"

"James go!" Harry yelled, noticing his older son had stopped. He hurled another jinx.

"I can help!" James protested, once again.

Suddenly, a beam of bright yellow light shot out of Albus' eyes, and darted across the room, embedding itself in James stomach. It had moved too quick for Harry to deflect. This was what he was scared of; he was having enough trouble defending himself.

James fell to the floor, unconscious.

"James!" Harry screamed, before turning around, looking back in anguish towards his younger son. "Albus, stop, please…" No reply. "Ginny get him out," he screamed, to his wife, who had re-entered the room, instantly. He deflected a blast of energy.

Ginny quickly picked her limp twelve year old son off the floor, and (with a considerable amount of force) flung him over her shoulder. Another curse! It hit her side, forming a deep bloody gash. It was seeping rich, crimson blood in less than an instant. She screamed.

"Ginny!" Harry looked around to see his wife in agony, struggling to stay on her feet. "You have to get out of here!"

She nodded grimly, and tried to make for the door, limping, helplessly. Then, a beam of red light…

"ERESCO!" Harry waved his wand towards the apparition, and vanished it, just before it struck his wife. She wobbled, clearly intending to try and avoid it, and toppled to the ground, throwing James along with her.

His head hit the hard floor, with an echoing thud. That was going to concuss later. Again, Ginny screamed in pain. "SCHERNIA!" This time, he waved his wand towards his wife and son, watching as they were gently swept out of the room, with a gust of wind. The door clanged behind them, leaving Harry and his dangerous son alone.

"Albus, this isn't you…"

It wasn't even worth bothering; there wasn't anything of Albus left in there. He heard every word, saw everything, but none of it registered, none of it mattered.

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Harry calling, sending a spell towards his son. It was repelled with such force, that the room, shook, when it hit the ceiling, and dust rained down.

There was no emotion on Albus' face. It was completely blank. He blinked again, another curse.

"_Protego." _Harry muttered, conjuring a shield. Both it and the spell collided, with an almighty _crash, _and then disappeared in a ball of airborne flame.

"Harry!" there was a shout from outside, but he was too distracted to take any notice.

"_STUPEFY!" _Harry tried to stun Albus, but to no avail.

None of the spells were working; Albus' defence was too strong. They were all being deflected; thrown into the walls and ceiling. If Harry wasn't careful he'd bring the whole hospital crashing down around them.

There was one spell he could use though… he hadn't wanted it to go this far, but if he left it any longer, he'd be too exhausted to fight Albus. It wouldn't go well, so he had to end it, and quickly.

"_STUPEFY MAXIMA!" _

This was one of the few spells that Albus couldn't deflect.

The light that erupted from Harry's wand was three times the height and thickness of the conventional stunner. It sailed towards Albus, flying, soaring through the air. The child blinked his eyes, predicting the danger, again and again, in an attempt to deflect the offence, to no avail.

The five inch thick beam of roaring scarlet, hit his chest with all the power of a raging tornado. He was thrown backwards, into the bed, the cracked the very frame down the middle. The bed snapped, with a _'Crack,'_ and Albus flew through it, straight to the ground below. The sheer force of the spell ripped him out of his restraints, snapping the very leather. He crashed onto the floor, with a _'bang!'_

There was silence, as Harry assessed the damage. It wasn't as bad as last time; the physical disrepair would be easily repairable, and nobody was killed this time. He sighed, exhausted, but happy it was over.

Well, he thought it was over.

An instant later, Albus' eyes shot back open, and Harry could see that the insidious darkness was still there, penetrating every fibre of Albus' being. The spell had no effect; Albus was still dead set on killing him, and it didn't look like much would change that at his point, because know he was free; the straps had been released.

Immediately, Harry jumped back into his offensive position, and held his wand high. Why hadn't it worked; a simple stunner knocked him out last time. Was he getting more powerful!

Then he realised it; there was only one way. One spell that could surpass the defences, but not kill. The only thing that was strong enough to incapacitate the… beast. The only way to do it quickly enough to keep himself alive. But it would hurt. It would hurt Albus like nothing he'd ever experience before.

Slowly, he bit his lip, and pointed his wand towards his son. A tear rolled down his eye. "Crucio." He muttered, simply, as if saying it gently would lessen the pain.

Albus screamed.

He screamed like the entire world was crashing down upon him, pound by excruciating pound. He shrieked a high pitched, ear-splitting cry of desperation.

But it was still there; the dark of his eyes, as he writhed and jolted in torment. His whole body shook, like an electric shock was passing right through him. And the screaming was so loud.

Harry carried on; he knew he couldn't stop until his son was back. That was the sacrifice he had to make.

Albus clutched his head, the torture too much to handle. The sheer, insufferable torture.

Then it was gone.

Albus' eyes were a shocking shade of green once more, the darkness had gone. The curse had worked.

Harry stopped, as soon as he could see his son back, but Albus was still screaming, screaming as if his head were about to implode.

Harry walked over, throwing his wand away, and sat down calmly next to Albus. He pulled him into a hug, as Albus burst into tears of agony and anguish. Harry rocked, backwards and forwards, just holding his son in a close, heart-warming embrace.

The pain was gone now, that much was clear to anybody, but Albus was still crying. Crying from the effects, crying from his deeds, crying in total desperation for the whole situation.

"Shh," Harry ushered, comfortingly. "Everything's gonna be absolutely fine."

Albus couldn't agree; he knew it wasn't true. But it was all he needed; the soothing sound of his parents' voice, and the unconditional, undeserving forgiveness…

It hadn't been long before Albus fell asleep. His whole body was in pain; the effects of both the Cruciatus curse, and his transformation were taking their toll. Harry had been there with him until he did, silently cradling the sobbing twelve year old. He whipped out his wand, and muttered, _"Reparo,"_ watching as the bed knitted itself cleanly back together. He picked up his sleeping son, and carried him over to the bed, laying him to rest under the soft duvet.

He breathed heavily, and walked over to the door, creaking it open. The only person still out there, was Rosie; Ginny and James had obviously gone to get checked out by a healer; the injuries inflicted by Albus were nothing to take lightly. James would have to take a potion, to regain consciousness, and Ginny would need bandaging up.

"Is he okay?" Rosie asked, frantically getting up off the floor.

"He's asleep."

"What happened?"

"I… I managed to sort him out, but it wasn't pretty."

Rosie barged her way into the room. "What did you do?" She looked anxiously towards her sleeping cousin. "Tell me," she said angrily, as if it were all Harry's fault.

"It's better if you don't know." Harry concluded.

"Don't patronise me. He'll only tell me if you don't."

Harry sighed. "The Cruciatus. It was the only thing that worked."

"What! You tortured him! Are you insane!"

"You didn't see him. He was about to bring the fifth floor in on us." He paused. "How are Ginny and James?"

"Being checked out. They'll be fine. It's Albus I'm worried about. "

""You and me both. When James wakes up, I am going to kill him."

"You think James caused it?" Rosie bit her lip.

"It makes sense. Emotional situations must cause it. Like last time with the death eaters. I could have died."

"But that's good isn't it? It just means we have to avoid any emotional situations and… keep James in check, and then he'll be fine."

"I don't think it's that simple."

"Oh?" Rosie sounded sceptical.

"You can't always be there. To make sure he never feels strong emotion again… it's just… it won't work."

There was a pause before Rosie changed the subject. "We can't tell Dawkins about this. If he finds out…"

"They may already know. They could have easily picked it up through the trace."

"But… does that mean?"

"The minister wants to keep Albus alive. But I don't know for how long."

"Would they really do it...? Kill him?"

"If you could go back, back to when Voldemort was Albus' age; young and innocent. You could kill him there and then, and all those people would live. Uncle Fred, My parents, Teddy's parents… None of it would have happened. Would you?"

Rosie didn't answer.

"That's what he is to the Ministry, another war; it's his life against thousands of others."

Albus awoke early, two days after the events of Christmas day. He was looking into the eyes of his cousin. Rosie. She held a damp cloth, and was dabbing his forehead. He was curled up, peaceful in the hospital bed, his limbs free from the straps.

"Albus!" Rosie exclaimed, startled to see him awake. "You're awake! How are you?"

"I feel like crap." He said, bluntly. It was a true statement; he had a splitting headache, his muscles were in agony, and his whole body was numb. He tried to turn on his side, but winced, in pain, and stopped.

"That bad?"

"I was sent flying through a bed, and then put under the Cruciatus curse. In response to your question, yeah, it hurts."

Rosie rolled her eyes.

"Where's Dad?" He asked.

"He had to take the others home. James and Ginny need to rest."

"Are they alright" Albus sounded concerned.

"Nothing a few good nights of sleep won't fix."

"You need to strap me up." Albus advised, after a moments' pause.

"Yeah." Rosie sounded vacant. She was stood facing the wall.

"Rosie."

"Yes, right. Sorry."

"What's wrong?"

She turned around, and saw looked Albus in the eye. Her eyes were welling up; silent tears rolling down her face. There was no answer.

"Talk to me Rosie."

"It's been four months Al. Four months and… nothing."

"Wh… what do you mean?"

"Nobody's come up with anything. Nothing that could possibly help you. What if you're like this forever? What if they never sort you out? Then they won't let you out. They'll keep you here. Or…" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

"It's easier if you say it out loud," Albus advised, with an omniscient tone.

"I don't wanna lose you Al; you're my best friend."

"And you're mine."

"But…"

"Don't break down on me Rosie; I'm having enough trouble convincing myself I'm going to get through this."

Rosie sighed, but didn't answer. "We're not going to tell Dawkins about this." She assured him. "The nurses have given us permission to use the Cruciatus curse on him, if he finds out." She smirked, saying it in jest, but immediately noticed her mistake, as Albus winced at the imagery. "Oops, sorry; kinda forgot about that."

"Don't worry about it. It was kinda necessary, even if it did hurt like holy hell. I think it hurt Dad more than me."

"Ginny said she hadn't seen him like that since the war," Rosie agreed.

"I'm not surprised. I'll have to speak to him about it. How was he doing, before he left?"

"He hasn't spoken much, to be honest. I didn't see you before you went to sleep, but I don't think it was pretty. It's not the kind of thing you forget easily."

"Right. Just for reference, the Cruciatus curse hurts."

Rosie chuckled, "I think that's rather the point, Al."

Albus moaned in pain. "This is gonna be sore for a very long time."

"I heard you screaming," she added, nonchalantly.

He bit his lip. "Was I really _that_ loud?"

"Yep; it's not something I'm gonna forget any time soon."

"Okay… I get the point."

"I was really scared. I wasn't sure you were going to make it. I don't think I would be able to live with myself if anything happened to you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd better not."

"Cross my heart."

"I love you Al."

Albus grinned.

"Love you too Rosie, babe."

Albus fell asleep in his cousins' arms that night. Or rather, they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, as peacefully as his bindings would allow. It _was _slightly painful, her arms wrapped around his taut, sore body.

His sleep was disturbed. Once again.

He heard the laughing first. The cold hearted cackling, and hissing, as everything turned black, and he was once again, face to face with himself.

"What do you want from me?" Albus spat, maliciously, into the cold, black eyes.

"I am you." The monster hissed.

"I'm nothing like you."

"Oh, but you are," it taunted, patronisingly. "I am you, and you are me. It's only in our mind that we are different."

"I don't kill people," Albus snarled.

"You tried, though, didn't you Albusss Ssseverusss? His tongue rolled on the 'S.' "You lost control. You attacked your mother, and your brother. You can't control yourself, control me."

"That's all I've been doing, for four months," Albus accused. "Keeping you at bay…"

"Don't you get it! I am you! You're controlling yourself. You irresistible craving for blood."

"No…" Albus shook his head.

"You can only think of positive thoughts here. You won't even admit how aggravating your brother is. Because you can only feel positive emotions, here."

Albus closed his eyes. "James… James…"

"You can't do it. Only when we are awake are we one. This is all in your head."

"I'm dreaming," Albus alleged.

"Finally! He gets it! This isn't real, Albusss Ssseverusss; in reality we are the same."

"You're lying!"

"You're an evil person, Albusss; your dark side will prevail eventually. I will prevail. Only here are you truly good."

"I'll never…"

Cackled laughter was the only thing Albus heard, before he awoke, screaming.

It was just like the last time; Christmas Eve.

Rosie was awake, staring worriedly at his sweat, and tear ridden face.

She didn't say a word. She didn't nag him to tell her about the dream. She just leant over, and hugged him tight; the one thing she knew he needed most.

Harry and James arrived at the hospital, early the next morning, alone. Ginny had clearly been left to take care of Lily, meaning that this would be too emotional for the nine year old.

Not a social call.

"Dad," Albus exclaimed, weakly, "James."

"Rosie, do you ever go home?" Harry asked, with a slight smile on his face.

"Not recently, no. How's Dad?"

"Missing his favourite daughter."

Rosie giggled. "I'm sure he'll survive the trauma. Though I can't imagine he was very happy on Christmas."

Harry pursed his lips. "No, he wasn't." Then he turned to his youngest son. "How're you feeling Al?"

Albus just groaned. "All I'm gonna say, is I don't want to know where you learned to Crucio like that."

Harry grimaced. "Al I'm really…"

"Don't worry about it. It had to be done."

James hadn't said a word so far.

"Well sit down," Rosie said, gesturing towards the armchairs around the bed.

They sat down, quickly.

"Albus," James started. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have said that stuff, and… and…"

"James, it's fine," Albus assured. "Everyone makes mistakes. God knows I should know that, of all people."

James just nodded, thankfully.

There was a pause for a moment, before Harry cut in. "There's something I need to tell you all, and you need to brace yourselves, because it's going to be bad news."

"This just keeps getting better," Albus moaned. "If it's about Voldemort's powers, then I already know."

Harry looked taken aback. "How?"

Albus considered dropping Rosie in it, but decided to cover up for her, since it was him that nagged it out of her in the first place." The healers seem to think that because I can't move, I can't see, hear or think either."

Harry nodded. "Well, that was… part of what I was going to tell you, but there's more, and it gets worse."

Albus nodded, urging him to continue.

"Now, just before we jump the gun here, I don't know if the Ministry have or have not picked up the power spike on Christmas. Nobody's told them, but the Department of Mysteries can be incredibly resourceful when they want to be."

Albus growled at him.

"I had a meeting with Dawkins and the Minister, before your outburst, and he said…" Harry trailed off.

"Dad, please."

A tear fell from Harry's eye. "Al, he said if anything happened again, he was going to send you to Azkaban."

Instantly, there was uproar. Both Rosie and James were shouting; bellowing across the room.

"How could he!"

"We can't let him!"

"It's Dawkins work, isn't it?"

"We have to stop him."

"He's ten years old!"

"The Dementors will have him for lunch!"

They stopped, only when they heard the faint sound of Albus' sobbing, once again.

"Albus…" Rosie rushed over to his bed side, immediately. James hesitated, only to glare at his father.

"Anything… anywhere but Azkaban." Albus cried. "Please… Dad, you have to stop them."

Another tear fell down Harry's face. "Albus, there's nothing…"

"Don't you dare!" James interrupted, screaming at his father. "Don't you dare say there's nothing you can do. You get out your damn wand, and fight off every fuckin' Auror that tries to take your son."

"I'll lose my job!"

"Please," Albus whimpered, "Don't let them take me there." The fear in his eye was more evident than it had been in four whole months

"Albus, it will only be a temporary thing, even if they do take you."

"GET OUT!" Albus screamed, with more power than Harry had ever seen him use.

"Albus, calm down…"

"Dad, go," James said, surprisingly rationally, considering the situation, "If you stay, he'll get worked up, and we can't risk anything happening again. Get out now!"

If it wasn't for the fact that James was totally right, Harry would have refused on the principle of being told what to do by his son. But he'd seen the damages of upsetting Albus, and stood up to leave, teary eyes. "Albus, I'm sorry," was the last thing he said, before leaving the room.

"It's getting hotter," Albus cried, feeling the scorching heat surging in on him, once again.

"Albus, it's alright," Rosie said, soothingly. "Everything's gonna be fine. He's gone now, it's alright."

It was a long time before Albus was fully calm again, but they had caught him early enough that he hadn't lost control. He was still furious at his father, but not at a dangerous extent.

"How could he just sit by, and let them do it," Albus sobbed into his brother's shoulder, who was laying by his side. Rosie was on the other,

"He won't be able to support us if he loses his job. We'd be homeless." James explained. "It sucks, but he thinks that's more important than you spending a while away."

"I'm scared. I won't survive a week in there."

"We just have to pray that they don't come for you." Rosie finished.

"I'll stay with you," James assured. "Till we either know they're not coming, or they do. I'll stay right here with you."

"We should go to sleep." Albus said, after a long pause.

"This is going to be cosy with the three of us," Rosie giggled.

Harry was right.

The three pre-teens awoke at just after midnight, to the sound of Albus' door being blasted off its hinges.

Rosie gasped, and screamed, as a team off ten aurors, including Dawkins, and the Minister for Magic himself, piled into the room, wands pointed menacingly at Albus.

"Mr Potter," the Minister started, addressing Albus' groggy form.

Albus blinked the sleep away from his eyes; instantly alert. "I know why you're here," he accused. He had known, from the minute his father had broached the topic that they were coming. There was no doubt about it for him. Maybe it was because the Department of Mysteries was so resourceful, but he didn't think so. He just had a feeling; a really bad feeling in his gut.

James and Rosie looked like they were about to cry.

"Please, Minister," James pleaded; "None of this is his fault. He's only ten years old. He doesn't deserve Azkaban."

The Minister didn't bother to try and justify himself. "Mr Potter," he looked sympathetically towards the young boy, strapped so cruelly down. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

Albus didn't say a word. Rosie was crying; bright, glittering tears poured their way down her face.

"I'm sorry." Taylor said, reassuringly; "There really is no other option. For what it's worth, I didn't want it to come to this either."

"So let him go!" James shrieked. "You're the Minister of fucking magic. You can do anything."

"I can't bring back the dead, Mr Potter," Taylor said, this time addressing James, "As I'm, sure your brother is fully aware."

Albus gulped, "Please Minister. I didn't mean to do all those things. You have to believe me. I would never…" he broke off, as his voice gave way, and cracked. "I don't wanna go to Azkaban. I'd do anything."

"You have to understand, that this is only temporary. I have a full team of professionals working your case, night and day…"

"It's not good enough!" James cried; his own eyes threatening to water. "It's been four months, and your 'Professionals,' haven't come up with Jack Shit that can help him. How am I supposed to live, knowing that I handed my brother over to the Dementors?"

"I won't let anybody else die," the Minister explained, his voice beginning to sound cold. "As the Minister for Magic, I am required to take this precaution."

"It's not a precaution, it's a death sentence!" Rosie shouted. "He won't last in there!"

"Enough." Taylor commanded, testily, before looking towards Albus. "I'm going to undo your wrist and ankle straps now. When I do, you are to put your hands in the air. Is that understood?"

Albus nodded, just once, as Taylor pulled off the straps, meticulously undoing the fastenings.

Albus, true to his word, put his hands in the air, straight away. Then he said, "Before we leave, I'd like a few moments alone with my family."

Taylor looked thoughtful, for a moment, before walking out of the room, muttering, "Try any funny business, and you'll regret it." He ushered the other aurors out of the room with him.

James pulled a face.

"Albus," Rosie gasped, before pulling him into a tight hug, "You'll be out of that place in no time, just watch."

Albus smirked, before turning to James, and pulling him into a tight, warm embrace.

"I'll miss you so much." James said. "I'm going to come and see you as often as possible; McGonagall will probably let me off at weekends. If I work extra hard."

"Me too," Rosie assured. "As often as possible."

With that, Albus looked heart-warmingingly at the two of them. "Thanks for everything guys. I love you both." Then he smirked, just slightly, as a single tear rolled down his face. "See y'around."

James nodded, and watched as Albus made to join the Aurors outside of the room. Dawkins, quite viciously, grasped the boy's arm, and then there was a thunderous _'Crack!'_ They were gone; dissaparated.

To Azkaban.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed. You all give me a warm fuzzy feeling when I read. This chapter is dedicated to Fulgance who has reviewed all my chapters, and has made some great conversation over the last few days. Thanks She also has a rather cool story which you should all read. I proof read this twice, so grammar if there are any grammar errors then I apologise.**

They had to force themselves to go home.

The easy thing would have been to stay there; sobbing at the bedside; hoping against impossible hope that the doors would burst back open, and he'd walk back in. Maybe it was all a ridiculous joke, or a mistake, or something that was anything but… this. This; the silent, dead feeling of defeat. They had failed. After all they had done to protect him.

He was gone.

It was hard for both of them; walking away from the room. It was like walking away from Albus himself. Walking away from the last four months; the end of an era, and the start of another. Another painstaking one. One that may never end.

Closing the door was the moment that settled it. They had waited long enough; Albus was not coming back. They had to accept that. It was Rosie who snapped it shut. They were about to walk away, when she stopped and slowly spun around, noticing something in the corner of her eye. It was the whiteboard, which was pinned to the wooden door of Albus' former ward. It bore the words "Private ward 512. Albus Severus Potter 05-03-18," in deep black ink. There were tears in her eyes as she walked slowly walked up to the board, and wiped the words off. She replaced it with six letters:

"VACANT."

Then she put down the pen and walked slowly away.

When they reached the atrium there was hardly anyone about. Well, not surprising, considering the hour; twelve thirty in the morning. They walked straight over to the fireplace, but this time it was James' turn to pause.

"Wait a minute," he said, before walking purposefully over to the main receptionist's desk, and coughed, loud enough to wake the sleeping receptionist.

"Eh, huh, what?" She said, groggily, rubbing her eyes. She looked annoyed.

"I'd like to report that semi-permanent wad 512 has been vacated."

"Okay…" the receptionist said, unsurely. "We really should have been given some notice. And you know that only healers can do discharges…"

"The ministry decided to have him transferred," he said. "By decision of the minister himself. If you talk to them, I'm sure they'll answer any of your questions." James blinked, tiredly.

"Okay," the receptionist looked patronisingly at him. "You should be getting some sleep."

James smiled, almost half-heartedly, "By the looks of it, so should you."

She was probably right, but James knew that he wouldn't be sleeping that night.

It was almost one o clock in the morning when James got home, appearing tired, defeated, and sullen, in the Potter fireplace. His parents were still awake, silently slipping glasses of something that looked vaguely alcoholic.

Their faces fell, as soon as they saw the look on his face. He looked dead inside; utterly defeated. The first time since that fateful day in September when he truly looked like he'd given up hope.

"It's over," he said, quietly; almost blank from emotion. "They took him. Dawkins won."

With that said, he walked out of the fireplace, and towards the staircase, not saying another word. He walked up the stairs, and into his bedroom. The bedroom that was once shared with his younger brother. It seemed so long ago now. He locked the door, and sat calmly on Albus' bed.

It was only when he was alone with a memory of how life used to be, when James really began to cry.

He didn't stop crying all night.

Back down in the kitchen Harry banged his head on the table, in desperation.

"You have to go to the ministry," Ginny ordered. "Talk to the minister, get him back. At the very least, speak to Albus. You can't have him hating you for the rest of your life."

"He wouldn't, would he?" Harry croaked, his voice shaking with burden.

"Well getting him out of that goddamn prison would be a start, now wouldn't it?"

Harry just nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p>"I want to see my son." Harry demanded, the second he appeared in the minister's office.<p>

Taylor was sat at his desk, rifling through a set of official looking papers. He seemed tired; it was too late to still be working in the office. By the look of his ash-clad robes, he hadn't been out of the floo network long.

"Good evening Mr Potter," Taylor said, sarcastically. "How are you?"

"Pissed. You should have told me you were going to do that. James had to tell me."

"What, and give you the opportunity to cut him loose? No thanks."

"You know I wouldn't do that!"

"I wouldn't expect any less of you." Taylor had the beginnings of a smile edging around the corners of his mouth.

"I want to see him. Where is he? Are you keeping him here?" Somehow Harry already knew the answer to that.

"No, we transferred him straight away. There was no point in beating around the bush."

Harry glared at him. "You could have at least waited until the morning."

"What difference would it make?"

Harry didn't answer. "Take me to Azkaban," he said bluntly. "Now."

"Why so aggressive Potter? I haven't refused yet."

"Are you going to?"

Taylor nodded towards the fireplace. "Take a pinch of floo powder from the bowl. Just say Azkaban. Dawkins is still there; he'll know what to do."

"What's he still doing there?" Harry spat.

"Do you want to go or not?"

Harry grimaced, but walked to the fireplace, nevertheless. He scooped a handful of deep green powder from the bowl, and walked into the fireplace, coughing slightly.

"Azkaban!" He cried, dropping the powder, and disappearing into a sea of emerald flame.

He arrived in Azkaban, after a sickening roller coaster ride through the floo network. He was covered from head to toe in ash, and was coughing hoarsely. Floo connections with Azkaban had always been a bit shaky; it was too far in the middle of nowhere to be in any way secure.

The first thing he heard was the sound of the vicious waves, slapping the stone walls of the prison. The wind was blowing hard, more so than normal. Even the heavens were angry tonight.

Harry was in a small circular room, with walls of thick, heavy stone. There was a brown desk in the centre, flooded with official documents: prisoner profiles, letters from the ministry, and a referral, placed directly on top. He recognised the document template; they were filled out for every new prisoner that entered the building. It just so happened that this one was their latest prisoner.

Albus Potter.

The most sickening thing, Harry thought, was this. Albus was being treated like a common criminal. The field marked 'crime,' had been filled out. It read "murder."

Simple.

That was it; nothing to insinuate the four months of struggling; fighting; battling against hope.

The words 'high security;' had been stamped over the document. Almost as an afterthought.

Harry looked up, tearing his gaze away from the paper. Those lies weren't worth his attention. He looked around further, gazing down the long, slender corridor that stemmed from the small room he stood in. It was glowing, a dim emerald hue, and swarming with Dementors. Hungry, and monstrous. They still scared him, after all these years.

A row of cells ran down the length of the corridor, on the left side. Each cell sported a prisoner. They were gaunt; starving and unloved.

Dying.

Harry clenched his jaw, and looked away from the pained faces. It was horrible; a fate worthy of only the most evil of wizards.

Not his son.

He was waiting almost a full five minutes, before Dawkins arrived; marching purposefully down the long, cold corridor. He looked completely at ease with the cold, lonely persona that came with the prison. He was at home, Harry decided, in a pit of emotionless despair and pain. He fed off it.

Dawkins was wrapped warm; thick robes and a long overcoat covering his muscular torso. It was clear he came here regularly. "Potter," he said, acknowledging the fellow Auror, as he entered the room. "The minister told me you'd be here." He sounded tired.

Harry glared at him, with murderous eyes, and said, simply, "Take me to my son, Dawkins."

The man didn't even bother responding. He merely nodded curtly, and turned back into the unnerving corridor of Dementors.

The chill shot down his spine as soon as Harry turned to follow the man. He shuddered; the Dementors were unbearable. There was no happiness left in this place. Nothing but the prospect of despair; eternal damnation in this lonely, rotting pit.

"He's down at the end of this corridor," Dawkins said, edging towards the right side. The Dementors preferred the left side; closer to the prisoners.

"Why so far?" Harry asked.

"Just depends where's free," Dawkins said, shrugging. It was clear he was lying; there was a certain look in his eye which betrayed him. Besides, there were free cells everywhere. Dawkins had explicitly chosen a cell further down, and it soon become clear why.

That was where the high security vaults laid; thick walls, and flooded with Dementors. The prisoners were becoming more and more broken; screaming and catcalling. It was like a circus. They were animals, each competing to scream louder, and angrier than the last. They were hungry.

Then quite suddenly, the noise stopped. Silenced in a second. They had entered another section. There were even more Dementors, a sea of eery dark cloaks, and shrivelled, bony hands. Dawkins walked first, pushing the hideous creatures from their path. It was enough to make Harry sick. Freezing to the bone with chilling hate. He shivered, and walked onwards. The silence was absolute, encompassing every inch of space. Maybe he could still here the screams from the last section, but they were… distant. Not really there. From a different world.

There were prisoners here as well. They were empty, lifeless shells, not even worthy of names. There was no life in their eyes. Looking into them was like staring into an unending pit of darkness.

"Please, Dawkins, tell me you haven't brought my son here."

Harry already knew the answer.

Dawkins didn't reply. He merely directed Harry to a cell on the far end of the row. "I'll leave you two alone," he said, opening the thick cell door, and escorting Harry in.

When Harry turned around his heart dropped. His son was lying on the floor, whimpering. He didn't even look conscious. His eyes were open, but there was nothing behind them. He was shaking; from the cold, from the Dementors… and from whatever was plaguing his mind. He might as well be in a coma.

He was lost in his own madness.

* * *

><p>He was in Hogwarts. Albus couldn't tell how he knew that; he'd never been before. He had never seen the castle.<p>

But he knew.

There was something about this place; the walls; the ceilings. Magic coursed through the very walls of the magnificent building. Thousands of years of magic teaching had played their part well. The place even smelled of magic. Well, whatever it was magic smelled like anyway.

But there was something wrong.

The castle was dark. It was cold. Not the happy welcoming school that had been described to him. It was lonely, isolating. Daunting.

Albus moved onwards. He was moving down a corridor. It wasn't pitch black, by any means. It had a dim blue glow, almost emanating from the very walls. It wasn't inviting. The kind of glow that sent shivers down your spine.

Albus gulped. This wasn't Hogwarts. Not the real Hogwarts. This was twisted; a dark cruel cesspit.

He carried on walking, slowly. There were windows everywhere, but he couldn't see out of them. Well, nothing worth seeing. There was a dark, endless wasteland of mist and cloud. Nothing fathomable.

He entered a classroom, and moved around searching. He didn't know what for; the room clearly didn't hold it. He was just looking for something; anything that could give him a clue. Where he was. What was happening.

He spun around, preparing to leave, when he saw it.

A flash of black hair! It was in the corridor outside, moving quickly past the classroom.

Immediately, Albus darted out of the room, determined to find the newcomer. So, he wasn't the only person here, was he?

He whipped around the door frame, to see an empty corridor. He sighed. That would have been his mind playing tricks on him. Great, he was alone after all. No, wait… he could see… just a faint trace of-

He was right!

There was someone peering around the corner, staring carefully at him. He studied Albus, closely.

"Hey!" Albus yelled. "You there, wait…"

Then the mysterious stranger was gone.

Albus was running after him before he even registered the disappearance. He dashed around the corner; down the next corridor; a staircase, more corridors…

The stranger was running away from him, there was no doubt. Albus could never see more than a snapshot of him though. A shock of dark hair, a leg disappearing around the corner, the swish of a coat…

It was an eternity before Albus turned the last corner. He stopped abruptly, facing an enormous stone archway. It was surrounded by glowing silver stones, each encrusted with a million miniscule emeralds, gleaming and shining a brilliant shade of green.

Albus' heart stopped. It was mesmerising, utterly fantastic. He breathed slowly. Each individual emerald seemed to gleam its own personality.

Then he heard the voice. It echoed from the walls, emanating from the very air itself.

"Albus," it said, the distinct tone ringing around the room, and his head.

"Albus, wake up."

What was it, calling his name? What wanted him?

The whole corridor suddenly started spinning. The mist was the only thing that refused to move. Everything else spun, faster and faster, making Albus dizzy with confusion. What was going on? And there it was again, the voice, calling his name…

"Albus."

The whole scene was changing. The magnificent archway was fading with each rotation; blending itself into a dull greying wall. The long corridor was becoming shorter and shorter; creating a box; a cube…

A cell.

The bars were appearing from nowhere, and slowly, surely Albus could feel his consciousness emerging from…

He couldn't remember. His mind was totally blank. What had been happening? Every memory was slowly slipping away, like a dream, a dream that didn't want to be remembered. Shouldn't be remembered. He could only recall the darkness, and the mist.

Albus gasped, suddenly. It was a desperate, powerful sucking, as if his lungs were grabbing hold of every particle of air they could possibly find, vacuuming it in. It was the type of breath someone took when they'd almost drowned, and had just been brought back to consciousness.

"Albus." That voice again…. Of course!

Albus turned his head, and saw what his suspicions were telling him must be true. And instantly he knew where he was. He had been dreaming. Or was it more than that? A delusion, hallucination?

It had taken the strong, calming voice of his father to wrench him out of whatever he'd experienced. And now he was glad for it.

"Are you alright?" Harry said, looking his son in the eye.

Albus' voice was hoarse. "Yeah," he said, bitterly. "Yeah I', okay,"

"I thought…" Harry gulped. "I thought for a second I'd lost you there. You were totally blank…"

"I don't know what happened…" Albus quivered. "It was… this place…"

"It's horrible," Harry said. "I'm sorry, Albus. I tried to stop this from happening… You have to believe me Albus. I didn't want this…"

"I know Dad," Albus said, calmly, "I know."

"I- I'm just so sorry this had to happened to you."

"Nobody wanted this to happen. But the minister is right. If I let the power take over again I could cause devastation. It's… this pace. It's the only place that would hold me. They did the right thing.

"But… Albus this is killing you!"

"Yeah…" Albus agreed, croakily. "Yeah I know." He broke eye contact. "Just get me out of here soon Dad. Please."

"You're my number one priority," Harry said.

"I'm scared."

"Be strong. You can't let the Dementors get to you. You… you're so full of love, and happiness. You're like a feast to them but you can't let them get to you. Listen to me, do you understand."

He nodded, shakily, fighting back the tears that threatened to pour out. "I could hear him," He said. "The man I killed. I could hear his voice in my head. His last words. His screams. That's what the Dementors do, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, reluctantly. "Be strong for me Albus. Be strong, and I'll get you out of here. Trust me. I am the saviour of the wizarding world, after all."

Albus grinned, sheepishly. "I love you Dad."

Harry smiled. "Don't you ever let the Dementors take that away from you."

They sat there in silence, for almost a full half hour. Nothing needed saying that hadn't already been said. It was just comfortable for both of them, to be absolutely safe and secure in each other's presence.

"Dad you should go," Albus said.

"Yeah I know," Harry sighed, "I-I just didn't want to leave you here."

"I'll be okay Dad. You go home and get some sleep."

Reluctantly Harry stood up, sighing. "I'll be back soon," he said. "Stay strong."

And then he was gone, and Albus was alone.

Albus was back outside the magnificent archway only seconds after his father had left. It was like his presence was the only thing keeping him there. Keeping him conscious, and sane.

He forgot everything in an instant. He was blinking between worlds, with no memory of either after passing through. As if it were a dream, slipping quickly from his grasp.

Albus blinked, and shook his head, whatever had happened he didn't know, but he remembered where he was now… And the stranger…

He was chasing after someone, before the incredible archway had appeared, and distracted him.

Quickly, he bottled through; it was probably too late, but he had to…

Whoever Albus was chasing after was waiting there right for him. And just the sight of it made Albus remember everything; Azkaban, St Mungo's hospital, four months of nothing and… those dreams

Because of course it was the same person, the same venomous, black eyed version of himself who had been plaguing his dreams.

* * *

><p>"Well," Ginny asked, the second her husband appeared in the fireplace.<p>

"Well what do you think?" Harry said bitterly, they're refusing to move him a square inch."

Ginny swore. Harry we have to do something."

"We will," Harry said, calmly. "The first thing I'm doing tomorrow morning is going to see what the progress is on fixing him. If needs be, I'll curse the whole damn team till I see some work. I'm not taking another second of stalling about. Not when Albus is in Azkaban."

"I'll come with you," Ginny said, "I'm sure Ron and Hermione won't mind having the kids for a few hours."

"Good idea," Harry agreed. "Hell hath no fury…"  
>Ginny paused. "How as he?" She bit her lip.<p>

"He looked in bad shape," Harry admitted, is voice wavering. "He'd been there for a few hours, it's… those Dementors. I can't go back Gin, it was horrible seeing him like that…"

"You have to go back sometime Harry; you are not leaving our son to rot in that godforsaken place.

"Gin you didn't."

"Harry we're going to bed now. We'll go to see Albus in the morning, okay?"

He nodded his head, grudgingly.

**A/N: Okay I'm going to admit I absolutely hated writing this chapter. It wasn't even the scenes, it was just hard work and didn't want to be written. So apologies if it was crap.**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**A/N: So we're actually coming dangerously close to the end of this particular instalment now. I'm predicting maybe 10 chapters. Anyway, fear not the sequel will come shortly after. And of course, it will be dripping with angst. At any rate, enjoy this:**

Albus ran.

He was scared; absolutely terrified. He must be dreaming again…

If you could call this a dream.

He was in Azkaban, that much he knew for certain… so why did he keep coming to this… place? Hogwarts gone wrong; the cold, brutal variation of a magical place, with that _thing_ chasing him. It was horrible.

He bolted down the corridor, up a staircase; running like there was no tomorrow. There were tears in his eyes as he ran, but he didn't stop; he couldn't. If he stopped that… thing would catch him.

"You can't essscape…" Its snake-like voice rang through the very walls themselves. It echoed, bouncing backwards and forwards again and again…

Albus let out a gasp, as it spoke. It was desperate, vulnerable. There were tears falling from his eyes, and his brow dripped with sweat… Running was becoming harder and harder; he shook like a rabbit caught in a spot light… what was happening?

_Bang!_

What was that? The slamming of a door? Albus heart skipped a beat… he kept running, onwards and onwards, step by hopeless step.

More bangs; crashes, and an almighty scream…

Finally Albus stopped. A scream? Could there be someone else here?

In a second he was running backwards. He had to know. If there was someone else, then maybe just maybe…

His thoughts were cut off. He was in an almighty hall; the size of nothing he had ever seen before. He could swear the whole of his street could fit comfortably inside… but what had happened? This wasn't the way he had come. Where the rooms changing?

Then he heard the scream again… it was shrill and deafening. It rung from the walls, and echoed around Albus' head. Was it behind him?

He ran on; he had to. He couldn't leave them, whoever it was, in this place, with that… thing.

But that 'thing' was him…

No! He almost had to stop himself saying that. It wasn't him. Because Albus was good. He was good… It was all he could do to hold onto that desperate thought, like a vice.

Another room; another staircase… he couldn't keep track anymore. He just followed the scream, that deafening shriek that made his ears ring and his head thump. It was torture; there was no doubt about it. Someone was being tortured...

Then he saw it. Someone was lying on the floor, a brown haired preteen with a lightly freckled face and…

"JAMES!" Albus recognised him almost immediately. His brother was writhing on the floor; twitching in agony. His whole body was burning from the inside out; two hundred degrees and rising, rising… James was sobbing and shouting; every centimetre of his lungs bellowing out an ear-splitting cry. "STOP!" He called, "Please, stop, it's… AAARGH!"

"James," Albus panicked, and tears billowed instantly from his eyes… he didn't know what to do. That was his brother, James, screaming and convulsing on the floor. He had to help, but how?

"ALBUS! Help me! Stop it, please." James pleaded with him, begging for some help. Tears were pouring down his face as he looked into his brother's eye. "It… it hurts, Al."

It was all wrong. His brother was supposed to be the strong one. The one that could go through anything in the world and be absolutely fine. He had to be… He had to stay strong.

James screamed again, and his body began to fit, shaking and jerking on the spot. Albus could hardly watch… he had to do something; he had to save his brother…

There was nothing he could do. He just had to stand there and watch his brother burn and die, shrivel up like a crisp in front of his very eyes…

"I'm… I'm so sorry." The words spilled out of Albus mouth. He didn't think; he couldn't.

"NOOO!" James screamed. "Don't you dare… don't kill me Albus, please…"

There were tears in Albus' eyes now; even more than before. "I'm sorry, James… I'm sorry…" It was all he could say, over and over again, as he slowly watched James scream himself to death…

Things were worse when Harry got to the prison in the morning. He had to force himself to go, and instantly he regretted it. His son was slipping, falling deeper and deeper into madness with every second. It was horrible; he could hardly bear to watch.

Albus wasn't even conscious, and still he was screaming and jolting on the floor. His hair was everywhere, glued and matted with dust and sweat, and other things he couldn't even bear to imagine. Harry refused to let the tears fall; knowing that it wouldn't help his son.

Albus took longer to bring around this time; almost a full five minutes. It just played testament to how deep into his hallucinations he was. It took Harry's gentle, soothing voice to bring him back to reality. "It's alright…" he said, over and over again, hugging his child close to his chest. "Shh, everything's going to be absolutely fine…"

Albus was crying, which didn't surprise Harry at all. The whole ordeal was too much for a full grown wizard, never mind a ten year old. It was murder; he wouldn't last that long in this godforsaken place.

At one point Harry even had to blink back his own tears.

"Dad…" Albus stuttered, before breaking off. He was having trouble just getting the words out. "I can't stay here… you… help me… please…"

Harry didn't say anything. He couldn't. He just cradled his son and, as ever, told him everything was going to be okay.

"Don't lie to me."

Albus' words were cold and brittle. It wasn't a request; it was an order. He wasn't going to listen to more of it; the hopeless optimism. "No Dad. Everything is not going to be alright. They're going to leave me to rot and die in this place. And don't you dare tell me otherwise."

Dinner that night at the Potter household was tense. It was the last night before James would go back to Hogwarts for the beginning of the second term. Nobody really felt like talking, so they sat there in total silence. The meal consisted of simple pasta in sauce; Harry had never been a good cook. He had insisted on doing so anyway just to take his mind of things.

"When's Albus coming home?" Lily asked, sounding completely innocent in her naivety. It was about fifteen minutes after they had sat down to eat, though nobody had really eaten more than a few bites.

Harry hesitated; that question never ceased to be awkward. He bit his lip before answering "Albus is gonna be home real soon Lily."

"But Daddy, you said that ages ago…" Lily whined, pouting her lips.

"Albus isn't coming home Lils," James said softly, whilst glaring angrily at his father.

"James!" Harry hissed.

James just rolled his eyes. "What Dad? We all know it; there's no point lying to each other. And it's not fair to keep getting her hopes up."

Lily just looked at them all, incredulously.

"Don't say that!" Ginny said.

"Why?" James practically spat. "Why not?"

"James, try and keep calm, please." Harry spoke reproachfully. James got the message; they didn't want him freaking out in front of Lily. Okay, so he'd stay calm. But that didn't mean he was about to lie to her. "Lily, Albus has been taken away by some evil people who think he's a bad person…"

He didn't get to finish the sentence. Harry grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and practically dragged him out of the room; slamming the door behind them.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Harry asked, brimming with fury.

"I'm telling her the truth Dad, something you should have done a long time ago." James scowled.

"Don't you tell me what I should and should not be doing," Harry spat.

"You can't keep lying to her Dad, not to her or anyone."

"Oh, so what do you propose we tell her? That her brother's rotting in an Azkaban cell? That he murdered someone? She's eight James, for God's sake."

"You're a fucking hypocrite!" James screamed. "You always tell us how nobody would keep you in the loop during the war. How hard it was being teenage Harry Potter. Well you've turned out just like them, haven't you? You're a mindless bureaucrat!"

"James…"

"HOW DARE YOU? How dare you stand there like you're all innocent? It's your fucking fault; don't you get it? Everything's all your fault! You put your own son is Azkaban! How could you?"

Harry didn't say anything. He stood there, totally taken aback.

"I hate you," was the last thing James said, before storming up the stairs to finish packing.

James didn't speak to Harry again before he got onto the train. He avoided him at all possible, and refused to meet his eye. As before, the whole family went to the station to see him off. Well, everyone minus Albus anyway. The situation was unbelievably awkward; nobody could think of anything to say after the fiasco of the previous evening. Lily was confused; totally unsure of what to believe, and Ginny seemed stuck in the middle of a situation she couldn't control. The problem was that they were too alike; James and Harry. Like father like son. James was always the child most like Harry; he was headstrong and stubborn, with a quick temper to boot. That was not a combination that was ever supposed to work.

The morning passed by relatively quickly. James had gotten up quickly, which was unusual for him; he often liked to lie in as long as humanely possible. Lately though, he'd been having trouble sleeping, and often stayed awake most of the night anyway. It was a nightmare that awoke him that morning; that recurring one he'd been having about Albus and…

Well, really he didn't want to go into it. At this point there was no reason for him to say anything about it. He just had to get up and get ready to back to school. He sighed, and put the last few things into his bag, before making his way downstairs for breakfast…

When they got onto the platform James was automatically ready to waltz straight off without saying a word to anyone. He wasn't in the mood for sentiments, and didn't fancy the opportunity to speak to his father.

"James," Ginny called, as her son made his way straight to the train, without even acknowledging them. Reluctantly he turned around, and said "What?" He was clearly trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Can we talk?" She said, whilst motioning for Harry to leave them alone. He looked annoyed, but walked Lily to the other side of the platform anyway.

James walked back, and waited for her to speak.

"I just wanted to say goodbye…"

"Is that why you got rid of Dad?" James looked sceptical.

"Just… try not to let this all get you down okay? It's going to be alright, I promise." She looked almost desperate as she spoke to him.

"Don't make promises you can't keep mum; you always told me that." For once James' tone wasn't angry; it was cracking a little.

"We're trying James, you have to understand…" Ginny had tears in her eyes.

"It's _him_," James practically spat, motioning to the place where Harry was stood. "He's an Auror! He's supposed to know how to fix this… He put Albus in Azkaban!"

"Shh," Ginny said, looking around to see if anyone heard. Luckily they hadn't. "Look James, your father's used to playing the hero. He feels totally helpless, and he doesn't have a clue what he's doing. Just… try not to hate him please."

James just nodded, though unsure he'd actually stick to his promise. "Bye Mum," he said, before giving her a quick hug and heading back towards the train.

"James!" She called him back again.

"What?"

"I'm going to get him out of there. I swear to God."

James didn't say a word.

_One Month Later_

James was sat in the Gryffindor common room, trying desperately to revise for Professor Rogrado's cursed Potions' assignment. It was impossible; how was he expected to keep up with all the work? He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, and hadn't eaten properly in almost the same amount of time. Just staying awake to do his homework was impossible, but as soon as he got to bed he stayed wide awake for hours; petrified of the nightmares. The nightmares came though, eventually; there was no controlling that. The other dorm-mates had noticed; he thrashed about and screamed as if the whole room was crashing down upon him. It annoyed them, sure, but they knew better than to confront him about it; he was likely to snap.

It struck him only now, whilst studying for a pointless potions assignment that having a reputation for being quick tempered wouldn't be getting him any friends any time soon. Not that it mattered at the moment. He didn't have the time or patience for that. Even Martin Longbottom, who he'd been friends with for years hadn't spoken to him in months.

He groaned once again at the Potions textbook, and gave up. He couldn't concentrate; there was far too much on his mind. He was just going to have to blag the test, and hope he could scrape through on general knowledge.

It was almost midnight, and he had lessons early the next morning, so reason told him to go to bed. He didn't though, because the prospect of lying there waiting for sleep to come was even less appealing than studying Potions.

What the hell was wrong with him?

_Tap tap._

James spun around, and saw his owl tapping on the window with its hard beak. That would be a letter from home, he figured, as his owl had been there since he was forced to send that apology home to Harry. He growled at the thought.

Quickly, he opened the window, and let the owl in, before untying the letter and waving it goodbye. Slowly, he opened the envelope, already knowing what would be inside.

_ Dear James._

_ Professor McGonagall recently sent us an owl telling us she was concerned about your lack of academic progress. Since the start of term many of your teachers have reported you being uncooperative in lessons, producing unsatisfactory amounts of work, and failing to complete homework._

_ We understand the situation isn't ideal, but your education is of utmost importance if you want to pass into the second year. We expect to see some improvement from you in the next few weeks._

_ We're doing everything we can to help Albus._

_ Yours,_

_ Mum and Dad._

_ P.S. If there's anything you need to talk about, we're always here to listen._

James ripped the letter up in a fury. Was that it? Forget about Albus and get on with your work? We're doing everything we can?

He wanted to retch at the thought of it. Clearly it was easy for them to forget about everything. But Albus was rotting in some Azkaban prison cell and there was nothing he could do about it.

Only God knew what state Albus would be in after a whole month after that place. And he was the older brother; he was supposed to protect Albus.

This was his fault, and he knew it.

How could everyone mope around like nothing had happened?

Harry hadn't allowed James to visit the prison. He didn't want James to be traumatised, or distracted from his studies. McGonagall had refused to overrule him, especially considering his lack of academic progress.

In fact, James was pretty sure that Harry himself hadn't gone to see Albus much since that night before the start of term. So Albus really was alone. Words could not describe how angry he was with his Dad.

_Bang! _James crashed his fist onto the table in a fury.

What had Albus done to deserve this?

It was the first time Harry had gone to see Albus in more than two weeks. It was getting progressively harder each time, as Albus continued to deteriorate. The last time had been the worst; Albus hadn't even woken up from that nightmarish vision. Or whatever the hell was going on in his mind. He screamed, and he cried, but it never ended.

Harry could only guess what horrors Albus was seeing.

Nothing had changed since the last time he had come. Albus was curled in the corner of the room, gasping and panting for breath. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, and he was muttering under his breath.

"Not James… please… sorry… so sorry…"

Slowly Harry walked over the where Albus lay. He slumped down on the floor, and took his son's head in his arms, gently cradling.

This time Harry actually managed to bring Albus around, albeit after a monotonous fifteen minutes of crying and shaking.

Albus coughed weakly. "Dad?" He croaked, almost as if it were too unreal to be true.

"Yes, it's me." Harry said, calmly stroking the matted black waves of Albus' hair.

"Where were you?" Albus sobbed, pulling his father into an angered embrace. He was trying not to cry, but the tears kept coming, forcing themselves out of his eyes. "I needed you but you didn't come…"

Harry's face went ghostly white. "Albus…"

"I waited for you for so long. And I stayed in that… that place… and…" he burst into a fit of inaudible sobs. "Why didn't you come?"

Harry didn't answer; he couldn't. There was no reason, no excuse.

"How much longer?"

No answer.

"Dad, when can I come home?"

"Soon Albus, real soon."

"Promise?"

Harry gulped. "Yeah I promise."

James didn't sleep that night. He sat on his bed, with his back leaning against the wall, thinking. He refused to sleep.

Morning came, and still he sat in the bed refusing to move. He skipped out on first period, and it was only at break when anybody noticed.

"James?"

He heard a voice, and recognised it instantly. It was Molly, one of his older cousins. She was in one of the years above him, so he was surprised that she was coming into the dormitory now. Or ever.

"James?" She called again. He heard her heels clicking across the floor, before she ripped open the curtains to his four poster.

"What?" He asked, voice sounding slightly moody.

"Why weren't you in class this morning?" She asked, sternly.

"Why's it your business?" He glared at her.

"Because as a result of a little interaction between our Grandparents, we happen to be related." She raised her eyebrows, expectantly.

"Oh, please we speak to each other all of about twice a year. Since when have you become my mother?"

"Well since your own ones doing such a crappy job of it, obviously." She folded her arms.

"Hey don't talk about my Mum like that!" James squared his jaw, before adding. "Who put you up to this then?"

Molly sighed. "Nobody did, I just heard that you were failing classes and generally being an unsociable git."

"Bit judgemental," James retorted meekly.

"Look I'm just trying to help, James, so either tell me what's wrong or get dressed and go to class."

"I don't want to go class."

For the first time Molly noticed that James' face was sullen and worn. He had bags under his eyes, and looked tired. "Have you been sleeping?" She asked, sitting down on the corner of his bed.

"In moderation… not last night." He shrugged.

"So what's been keeping you up?"

"Well, I was studying Potions last night…" James started.

"You missed that test. So what _really_ kept you up?"

"I was just… look I can't tell you alright." He sounded exasperated.

"Okay… Well, why not?" Molly pursed her lips.

"Because it's not your fucking business!"

Molly looked taken aback. She scowled.

James regretted raising his voice immediately. He sighed, and said: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted… but… I'm not allowed to tell you what's wrong. I just can't okay?"

"Is it about Albus?"

Silence.

"What do you know about that?" James fretted. If she knew then who else did?

"Not much. Just that he's ill. He's in St. Mungo's, isn't he?"

"Yeah," James said, deciding not to bother correcting her. "It's… he's been there for so long, and nobody knows what to do, and nobody cares and…"

"James, you'd be surprised how many people care. Just because we don't see you guys that often doesn't mean we're not worried. And we want Albus to get better soon as well. But you've gotta remember that he wouldn't want you to mope around this place all morning, would he? You're not doing yourself any favours, and he isn't going to be happy to find out you've failed first year on his account, will he?"

"No, I guess not." He sighed.

"So, if you get up, I'll make sure Madam Pomfrey sends you some dreamless sleep potion. Deal?"

He nodded, grudgingly.

Harry and Ginny walked calmly into the Ministry later that morning, for what seemed to be the thousandth time since September. There was no point anymore; these meetings were just formalities now. Everyone was at a loose end as to what to do with Albus, and no progress was being made. In fact, no progress had been made since the healers had discovered the nature of Albus' problem. Harry had been down to the Department Of Mysteries a few times, and even got to the point of shouting at some of the team, but it made no difference. This was the first case of anything like this that the Wizarding world had ever seen and it confused them.

Luckily today Lily would be at school for the amount of time it took the two of them to attend the meeting, so at least they hadn't needed to put Ron and Hermione out looking after her. Not that they ever protested, obviously, but it didn't stop making Harry feel bad.

They walked quickly through the atrium; deciding to be quick today. They each had things they'd rather be getting on with. They handed their wands in for inspection at the desk, and passed into the lift, travelling down three floors.

The team was already in the room, sat down at the long table next to the Minister and a group of healers. That was odd, Harry thought; the healers had stopped attending weeks ago. He also noticed a distinct lack of Dawkins. The team consisted of a few aurors, somebody from the Department of Mysteries, and somebody from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The case was high clearance, meaning they weren't even allowed to tell their families what they were working on. That suited Harry perfectly fine; he didn't want their business broadcasted across the whole magical community.

"Sit down Mr Potter." The Minister said calmly, looking Harry in the eye. Harry was yet to decide whether he liked that man or not.

"What's with the healers?" Ginny asked; voicing Harry's own concerns

One of the healers decided to answer the question. "Well after the past month we've been looking in detail into Albus… condition."

"Yes?" Harry said tersely, urging them to get to the point.

"Well, to be totally honest, it's still a completely alien concept to us. We need to study Albus himself, and with him…"

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, annoyed at the healers.

The Auror sat on Harry's right continued on. "Well, whilst working with the Department of Mysteries, we've managed to come up with a temporary solution."

Instantly Harry's face changed. The annoyed look on his face dropped in a second, and for the first time in months he looked optimistic.

"It's not very practical, and definitely not a permanent solution, but we think it holds lots of promise." The Auror reached into his briefcase, and pulled out a vial. "This Potion was brewed… well mostly by accident to be honest, but it works as a suppressant to Albus'… powers. If he takes it on the hour every hour, it will ensure that another situation like before doesn't arise."

Ginny's eyes glossed over, brimming with tears. "Does that mean..?" She looked pleadingly at the Minister, who smiled warmly at her.

He nodded. "Yes Mrs Potter. Your son can come home."

Ginny burst into a fit of gracious sobs, and ran over to the Minister, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Thank you, Minister, thank you so much."

Taylor laughed, and smiled at Ginny, returning the embrace. "Don't thank me Mrs Potter; I'd thank the people who came up with the solution."

The tears of happiness continued for hours afterward.

**A/N: See, I can do happy endings! This chapter had lots of James in it (in case you hadn't noticed). I kept getting told he was brilliant, so I thought I'd write loads of him, because too many next-gen fanfics portray him as the devil incarnate. I'm falling in love with him now… Anyway… this chapter moves quite fast I think, but I think of it more as a series of snapshots than much else. I enjoyed it, hopefully so did you, and thank you to everybody who continues to review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

**A/N: So this has taken forever, I'm aware. Profuse apologies. Life sort of got in the way of my updating schedule. Either way I hope you enjoy this instalment. It's the penultimate.**

It was about a week later, when Albus woke up in St. Mungo's hospital. He wasn't sure what was happening, what was going on.

He recognised the room immediately; it was the same one he'd spent months in before Christmas. He almost groaned as soon as he saw it but quickly decided that anything was better than Azkaban. This time was different from his first spell in the small room because the restraints hadn't been replaced. He was perfectly free to move about as he pleased… In comparison, his situation currently didn't actually seem that dismal.

Albus drew a breath and coughed instantly. His throat felt like it was made of hard, unvarnished wood and his head throbbed like a drum.

"Albus!" He heard a shriek and then saw a shock of ginger hair flying towards him. Of course it was Rosie. He was almost surprised to see her; she hadn't been allowed to visit him in Azkaban. "You're awake!" She said, as if this were some miracle. "We've been so worried," she gasped, fumbling around his bed. "I thought you'd never wake up…" He flustered tone hid a definite hint of fear.

"Bloody hell Rosie… How long have I been out for? And when did that moron Dawkins let me out of Azkaban?" His head began to spin out of focus as he tried to concentrate on his cousin.

"D-Don't you remember?" Her face was concerned; plastering a look of terrified confusion.

Albus just shrugged.

Rosie paused. She was scared, that much was very clear. She hadn't expected Albus to wake up so clueless. He looked dead; as if he'd somehow managed to leave his essence lying in his pit of an Azkaban cell, whilst his body lay here, empty.

She gulped and hurriedly changed the subject. "Your Dad came to get you out a week ago, the Minister finally overruled Dawkins." She broke off, as if she was struggling to say the rest. "They said you were conscious but… it was horrible. I wasn't allowed to see you until hours later but you were still screaming and crying and… and I could hear you it was…" Her voice gave out from underneath her, as tears slowly started to stream from her eyes.

Albus didn't say anything for a moment. He lay silent; taking in the image of his sobbing cousin. He didn't join in the crying; those days had long since passed. He sighed. "Rosie, I've been screaming and crying for the best part of the last month. It's hardly a new development." His voice croaked a hoarse quality, as if proving his point.

"That place…" she muttered. "What happened in there?"

"I went mad," Albus said, shrugging slightly. That was all he was going to say.

Rosie paused. "At least it's over now. They're not going to take you back again."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Rosie grabbed his hand firmly and smiled.

Albus flinched the second their hands made contact.

Rosie's face fell. Silently, she brought her hand back, careful not to look Albus in the eye. "They're gonna let you home soon you know?" She said, almost desperate for a change of topic.

"Really?" Albus looked genuinely surprised. After so many months of disappointment it seemed too good to be true

"As soon as you're feeling better things will be back like they were before. You can come back to school; we've only got until July left!"

"I don't even know what month it is." Albus said, smiling half-heartedly. It was like they were both making a hopeless effort to maintain conversation… Things had changed. Things were harder now… Albus had changed. He learnt things in prison…. Things no eleven year old should learn…

Rose just looked at him sympathetically. "It's February. You've been in Azkaban for about six weeks."

"Bloody hell, " Albus cursed. Then he paused. "Where's Dad?" He asked, his voice hardening. He looked around the room, searching for something that clearly wasn't there.

Rose bit her lip. "He had to work Al…"

Albus didn't freak out, or explode into a fit of anger. He'd save that for later. Now he just groaned and rolled his eyes. "Typical, I could be dying and he has to work."

"Albus, I'm sure…"

He just glared at her. "Don't make excuses for him."

Rosie just sighed. "He loves you, Al, you do know that?"

Albus didn't answer. He slumped his head down on his pillow and breathed deeply.

"I'll go down to main reception and send and owl," Rose muttered softly. "He'll come straight away… I'm sure he will."

"Alright then. Be quick though."

* * *

><p>"Professor McGonagall… I got your note… I came straight away. What's wrong? Is this about Albus?"<p>

James Potter stood in the entrance to McGonagall's office, looking extremely worried. He held a rolled up piece of paper in his left hand; the note which had summoned him to McGonagall's office. It was crumpled around a clasped hand. His hand was scrunching it tight; crushing it with frustrated anticipation.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall said softly, noting his desperation. "Come in and sit down, if you will."

"Yeah, sure," he said uncertainly. His face was screwed up with anxiety and his heart thumped, as he rushed to sit down in the wooden chair opposite her desk. "Is this about Albus?" He repeated, eyeing the headmistress almost desperately.

"Yes; I have some news for you…" McGonagall started, before she was cut off by more of James' hysterics.

"What happened to him!? What the hell ore could the Ministry…"

"Mr Potter!" McGonagall snapped, sternly. "Will you please let me finish and you can insult the Ministry of Magic afterwards, if you so wish?"

James nodded, though still looking apprehensive.

"The Minister had released Albus from Azkaban."

James was speechless. His mouth gaped open but words refused to proceed.

McGonagall smiled, deciding to continue whilst James caught his breath. "He's currently in St. Mungo's being nursed back to full health. It seems his stay in Azkaban had a far worse effect on him than anybody could have predicted. After that, he will be allowed to go home."

James finally managed to choke out a word: "Why?"

"I'm not sure of the technicalities but the team assigned to his case managed to develop a suppressant for his power."

"Is he alright?" James said, as his eyes brimmed with tears. He couldn't quite believe it was true.

"He's been asleep ever since he got to the hospital but I've been told he should awake within a couple of days."

"And mentally?" The words were almost impossible to form.

McGonagall sighed. "I'm not going to lie, Mr Potter, Azkaban effected your brother hard. He's not going to be the same but right now we have to focus on the positives. He's alive and he's going home."

"Can I…" James hesitated. "Can I go and see him… please?" His face pleaded with her and his eyes seemed to echo a whole year of despair in that one moment.

McGonagall scowled. "Well it's not in school policy, but… I think I can make an exception, given your circumstances."

James' face lit up. "Thankyou!"

"But…" McGonagall lifted a finger and looked sternly at him. "I want to see better progress on your school work when you return. Do we have a deal?"

James nodded, without even a trace of reluctance.

"You have a week."

* * *

><p>It took James barely five minutes to get his belongings together. He didn't take all that much; just the things he would need the most: A few toiletries, changes of clothes and a stack of parchment. He was excited; over the moon for what seemed to be the first time since September. His body was buzzing, almost in disbelief.<p>

Of course, he wouldn't be able to leave until McGonagall had received permission from his father by owl, but James knew that wouldn't take long. Maybe a few hours at most. It was lucky that he didn't have any lessons left today; he couldn't stand trying to concentrate whilst waiting. The suspense would have killed him; it would have been unbearable. As it was, the wait in the common room wouldn't be pleasant.

As he sat down by one of the tables, he pulled out a roll of parchment and began to write upon it. It felt like at this point, this moment of waiting, that everything he'd felt since September was finally coming to the surface. All the anger, the hate, the hope and desperation. Every moment of pain and anguish was brimming through him in that moment, coursing through his veins. It seemed bittersweet; everything was finally coming to an end. Well it seemed that way anyway. Maybe Albus wasn't cured. Maybe they'd still have problems. But things were looking up now, right? There was light at the end of the tunnel.

He wasn't sure what he was writing for, or if he'd even end up showing it to anyone. It helped though, somehow. He wrote everything; everything that had happened since September and how it had made him feel. It felt like closure.

It was after about ten minutes, when he saw Molly walking down from her dormitory, with her usual gaggle of friends. They were heading for the portrait hole.

"Molly!" He called, without really thinking what he was doing.

She looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. When she saw James, her face lit up and she quickly made her way over, motioning for the rest of her gang to leave her.

"What is it?" She said softly, sitting down opposite to her cousin.

"It's… I thought you should know… Albus is going home soon. They think he's doing a lot better."

"James! That's fantastic news!" Molly smiled. "See, I told you everything was going to be okay, didn't I? How's everything going with school?"

"Getting there," James nodded. "And… thanks for helping me out. I needed a kick up the arse."

"Well I'm just glad Albus is alright now."

"Yeah," James agree, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Me too."

* * *

><p>In all fairness to Rosie, and indeed Harry, Albus' father <em>had<em> turned up to the hospital, barely minutes after the letter was sent. He had received two letters actually. The first had been from Rosie and the second from McGonagall. He was slightly reluctant to let James of any school, considering his recent lack of progress but decided to let him come anyway. School work was a problem for another day.

Albus and Rosie were talking awkwardly when Harry finally arrived. It was a far different scene than he was used to… Rosie wasn't on the bed this time; hugging her cousin like the best friends they were… she was on the visitor's stool today. She sat beside the bedside with her hands in her lap looking… completely hopeless. Albus was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling; not even making eye contact. He spoke every now and again but the conversation was tense and disjointed. It wasn't like things always had been. Thing had changed.

Harry coughed slightly as he walked in, deliberately grabbing their attention. Albus looked up instantly; he whipped his head around, looking exultant for a moment at the sight of Harry… the look disappeared almost instantly. It turned into something conflicted; happiness mixed with genuine surprise and burning anger.

"Dad," Albus said with a fairly neutral tone.

Silence.

Rosie looked between the two of them, biting her lip at the anxiety of the situation. Hurriedly, she muttered something about getting something to eat and disappeared.

Harry could barely muster up the words to answer. "H-How are you feeling?" He stuttered.

"Urm… okay I suppose," Albus replied, his voice a little hoarse. Whether that was from illness or anger, Harry wasn't really sure. Harry couldn't even put his finger on what made Albus so angry… there were so many possibilities… so many times he'd let his son down.

Harry cautiously rested himself down, awkwardly on the edge of Albus' bed. He sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable as he looked into his son's eyes. They were his eyes. Lily's eyes.

"Albus, I think we need to talk."

Albus looked up, showing his face for what seemed to be the first real time since Christmas. It had changed so much, in such a short space of time. It was gaunt and sunken, as if something had died inside him. Almost as if every possible hope for happiness was far gone. The skin around his eyes was stained and wrinkled and his emerald eyes looked far older than their years. They were endless, as if looking too hard would suck you into a bottomless pit of sadness. Experience.

Albus had changed. He wasn't shy and innocent anymore; he was distraught, broken and shattered.

Harry wasn't going to get his son back now. He was too far gone. There would always be a part of him in that Azkaban cell; the part everyone loved most about him. His innocence was gone and with it any hope of the son everybody had known before this hellish nightmare had begun.

"What is it Dad?" Albus asked, his voice unnaturally cold and brittle. It was an unfamiliar sound that sent shivers racing down Harry's spine.

"You hate me."

It wasn't a question.

Albus didn't reply.

Pause.

"I've failed you son, I realise that…"  
>Still nothing.<p>

"Albus… speak to me. Please?"

"What do you want me to say?" Albus asked, his face hardened with resentment. There were no tears anymore; they had long since dried up. The Dementors had taken them away from him. He couldn't afford to feel anymore.

"I don't know… cry, shout, scream at me… just… don't give me that look Albus, I'm sorry…" Harry' jaw quivered and his jaw welled up.

"What's happened is over, Dad. Crying and screaming won't change anything."

"You… you've grown up so much, y'know that?"

In any other context that would have been a good thing.

Albus just blinked and said, solemnly: "I had to."

* * *

><p>Another meeting.<p>

Two hours had passed since Harry had visited the hospital ward. He was back in the Ministry now, once again carrying his wife on his arm. Ginny surprised him sometimes. She was holding up so well; she was his rock. It seemed like she took everything in her stride.

He loved his wife. That much was clear to any onlooker. Sure, they'd had their ups and downs, like any couple. They hadn't spoken for months after the war but they were a unit now.

Today they had to work out the logistics of Albus' antidote and the practicality of him going to Hogwarts. It was important; it would decide whether or not he'd be able to go.

As could be expected, Minerva McGonagall was among the number of people sat around the table today. She was apparently missing some important business at the school to be here today, a face which Harry greatly appreciated. Finally, somebody was on his side.

Amongst the others were the team that Harry saw last time, Dawkins and the Minister. Harry was hoping Dawkins wouldn't be too much of a problem.

"We are meeting today to discuss the matter of Albus' treatment," Taylor began, looking around at the other members of the team.

"We've encountered a small problem," one of the team members piped up.

"Go on," Harry ushered, anxiously.

"Well, as you well know, the potion we've concocted acts as a suppressant, rather than getting rid of the magic. The problem with this, is that the magic will eventually get to a point where there's too much being supressed…"

"So what?" Ginny asked. "It'd… explode?"

"So that means we could still have a transformation on our hands, despite your so called 'antidote'?" Harry's voice was laced with anger.

"Not necessarily," another blonde-haired wizard said, joining the conversation. "We suggest that Albus is put in controlled conditions every six weeks or so and placed under an induced transformation… Probably every six weeks by our calculations. It would prevent the situation getting to harmful levels."

Harry's jaw dropped.

"You can do that?" Ginny frowned. "'Induce' a transformation?"

"We're pretty sure we can," a healer replied, "With the correct potions of course. We're sure this would prevent any unexpected outbreaks. Just as long as these situations were controlled…"

"You mean lock him up?"

The healer squirmed. "I was trying not to put it like that… think of the benefits though; Albus can live a practically normal life every other day." The healer looked pleadingly at Harry.

"Well we don't really have a choice, do we?" Harry shrugged.

"Well than," McGonagall said, butting in to the conversation. "I think now would be an excellent time to discuss Albus' options for next year."

"The Ministry aren't happy with Albus attending Hogwarts," Taylor said reproachfully. "But Minerva believes if certain… precautions… are taken, then his attendance is perfectly fine."

"I think you'll recall, Minister, that a similar situation has been encountered before at Hogwarts."

"Oh really?"

"Remus Lupin…" Harry answered the question. On reflection, it was only when McGonagall mentioned it that he began to see the parallels. The situations were almost identical. Everything suddenly started to fall into place. "We can use the shrieking shack again… just, just like before… People will think it's the ghosts. It's obvious."

"We were thinking something along those lines, yes." McGonagall said. "We will have to reinforce the Shack with some strong magic, but I believe, like you, that it will serve its purpose well. It's going to be difficult for all of us. But for Albus' sake I think we should make the effort. He deserves a fair shot at life."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Albus will… well the news will be hard but I'm sure he'll agree to this arrangement."

"We're not going to induce Albus until he starts Hogwarts in September."

"Wait… why?" Harry said, confused. Surely seven months is far too long to wait…

"Albus was given a particularly strong dose of antidote before he was released, to prevent his dreams triggering anything… It's not practical to use that large a dose on a regular basis… it would play havoc with his immune system. The dosage we gave him will cover until September… We don't want to try and induce earlier in case the dosage was too strong."

Silence.

"Well, we should go and talk to Albus then," Ginny said, her voice suddenly running cold.

* * *

><p>The room was absolutely silent as Ginny and Harry walked in. Rose had left now; it was getting late in the day. There wasn't all that much for her to stay for anyway. Albus was awake but he didn't acknowledge their arrival. He lay absolutely still, as if in a trance. Harry couldn't tell if he was ignoring them to be rude, or if the act of moving to acknowledge their presence was simply too painful in his condition. He knew which one he'd rather it be.<p>

"Albus?" Ginny called, her voice ever sweet.

Albus grunted half-heartedly. His voice sounded rough and gravelly.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, tentatively. They still weren't on the best of terms.

"Shit." Albus said, shortly.

At any other point they would have both scolded him for his language, but neither of them could really bring themselves to do it. He looked lost and absolutely defeated. How could they possibly make the situation any worse? But they had to. They couldn't afford to hold things off any longer.

"Have you improved at _all_?" Ginny asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

Albus shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"That's good." Ginny sighed and lifted her hand to her son's brow, gently stroking his brown hair out of the way. She saw him wince and grit his teeth at the contact but he had the grace to not say anything. Her heart dropped as soon as she saw his face. He was never like this before. It hurt her to see her son like this… so detached… so broken. She recoiled her hand and glanced at her husband, who smiled; non-committal.

"What do you want?" Albus asked, making no attempt to hide the cold edge to his voice. It cut deep into Ginny. It was like Albus didn't even care anymore. It was like he had given up on everything he had once held so dead to him. Albus had always loved his family so much. The Dementors had taken that from him. She hardly recognised her son any more.

"We have some news for you. Did you remember that we had a meeting this morning? We told you about it, do you remember?"

Albus nodded.

"Well Professor McGonagall was there and we had a little talk about what you're going to do in September.

"Well?" Albus asked, ushering her to the point.

"There's good news and there's bad news dear."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Isn't there always?"

Ginny hesitated, whilst Albus gritted his teeth.

"Mum, so far in less than a year I've turned into some deranged lunatic, killed a man, spent three months strapped to a hospital bed, been told I'm the spawn of Voldemort and quite literally lived in a place worse than hell. I think I can take whatever you've got for me."

The grimace on Ginny's face was far from pleasant. Nevertheless she went on to explain the situation. "Well, Professor McGonagall has agreed to let you come to Hogwarts in September next year? Isn't that good news?"

If she was expecting a reaction she didn't get one

She gritted her teeth and continued. "The bad news is to do with the Potion you're taking."

"Why, has it stopped working?" Albus asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"No dear, I'm sure it's working fine. We just have to discuss the logistics of it a little."

"It's not a permanent solution, is it?" Albus guessed.

Ginny nodded, gingerly.

"What does that mean..?" Albus' voice cracked slightly. "I'm not going back am I? Don't tell me I'm going back…"

For the first time since he'd woken up Harry final started to hear some emotion in his son's voice: fear. The fear was strong; it surpassed everything else you could sense in the tone. The sounds of it in Albus' voice almost made Harry shake with terror himself. The cold voice sounded like the ringing sound of screams, echoing off the Azkaban walls. He could hear the sound of Azkaban burning through his son's words.

Albus voice cracked again. "Don't make me go again."

Ginny went back to stroking her son's forehead, this time with no hesitation from Albus. Her heart jumped a little when she realised he wasn't resisting any more. "Don't worry Albus, I'm not going to let you go back there again…" She hesitated. "_We_ aren't going to let you go back there again."

Albus smiled briefly, but slid back into a frown almost instantly. "So what's happening? What are they going to do to me?"

"Well, basically the drug that you're taking acts as a suppressant, rather than actually getting rid of the excess magic that makes you prone to… well… you know…"

"So what? It's going to build up? What difference does that stupid potion make then?" He raised his voice, anger and bitterness echoing through. It almost made Ginny jump how quickly he jumped from peace to anger. "I'm still going to change, aren't I? I'm still going to kill people, aren't I?"

Ginny gulped at the crudeness of the phrase. "Well, dear… the Ministry have proposed, starting from when you begin at Hogwarts, that every six weeks they 'induce' a transformation, to relieve the build-up in your system."

Albus was taken aback. "Since when did the Ministry _want_ me to change?"

"Well, obviously they'd put you in a… secure location. So you couldn't hurt anybody."

"You mean they'd lock me up?" Albus' eyes darkened.

"Well… we were thinking the Shrieking Shack actually. It's… it's out of the way and there's plenty of room for you."

Albus sighed. "Well anything's better than Azkaban I suppose." Then his voice gave way again. "I'm going to go crazy… what if I turn on myself… there'd be nobody there and…"

"Shh…" Ginny interrupted with her soothing voice. "I'm not pretending it's going to be pleasant Al. I assure you, it won't be. But we don't really have to worry about that until September… so for now let's focus on getting you better and getting you home. Does that sound good to you?"

Albus nodded, tentatively.

Ginny paused. "And for what it's worth… we're sorry. We're sorry that you had to endure Azkaban… I can't begin to imagine how awful it must have been. And we're proud of you… for fighting through it. You're very brave, Albus."

Albus didn't say anything. He laid back and stared once more at the ceiling.

He sure as hell didn't _feel_ brave.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

**A/N: There are no words. Just thank you for sticking with me and goodbye. I don't know if I'll ever get round to writing part 2 but I've made this last chapter as brilliant as I possibly can just in case I don't. Hope you enjoy it.**

Albus was asleep when James finally arrived at St. Mungo's late that evening. McGonagall had wanted him to wait until the morning, but James couldn't possibly wait. He wouldn't have been able to sleep with the suspense anyway.

James was careful not to wake his brother, conscious he'd need all the sleep he could to get home. It was enough for James just to sit beside him and watch him sleep. His breathing and chest rises were sporadic; his sleep wasn't peaceful at all. There was a bead of sweat trickling slowly down his brow and his eyes danced under his lids, as if closed into some mystic, ritualistic trance.

James sat back and watched, almost enthralled by the sight before him. It made his heart sink just looking at it; his brother seemed so utterly alone in that world. That world he went to every time he even dared to close his eyes. James couldn't imagine how awful it must be; the fear of pain and that place of utter desolation whenever he slept.

James had been warned about Albus. Rosie and Harry had talked to him, both saying exactly the same thing. He had changed, he wasn't the same person that he was before Azkaban. He's not himself. Don't expect anything. It hurt James to think what they were saying. He was supposed to give up hope; completely forget everything that had happened. Forget his brother and admit defeat to whatever force has changed his brother for the worse. It hurt James to completely give up hope; he wanted to speak to his brother again, the brother he knew. He wanted to hold him once more, and tell him that everything would one day be okay again… he wanted to scream and cry and assure his brother that he'd never let anything happen like that again. He wanted to make his brother safe again. Innocent again.

He wanted to be the brother that he'd failed to be, whilst Albus rotted in an Azkaban cell.

He couldn't do it, of course. Albus had changed now; that's what everyone kept on telling him. Albus wasn't the same any more. The time where they could lay here and pretend everything would be fine was long since passed. Now was the time for reality. Now was the time for healing and moving on, however they could think to manage it.

Now it was time to grow up and end the tale.

Albus woke up ten minutes after Hanes had arrived in the hospital wing. He was sweating even more than before, and he had to cough the instant his eyes flashed open. He looked rough; beaten to a pulp and sucked dry. He looked like the shell of a boy; existing with only the smallest possible amount of life force. Because that's all he was doing really; existing. Surviving at all costs.

"James," Albus croaked. There wasn't enough life in his voice for it to contain emotion. It was dry and brittle sounding. It sounded like the doomed, sorrowful moan of an old dying man, slowly losing the will to go on any longer. He was the mind of a bitter old man locked inside an eleven year old boy.

Eleven years old.

It struck James for the first time in the moment that they'd missed Albus' eleventh birthday. He'd spent it in Azkaban. James gulped.

"Albus," he said, trying to sound overjoyed. His voice couldn't really manage the tone. "I…" his voice faded out. "I've missed you," he muttered out, smiling just slightly.

"Yeah," Albus said. His voice sounded like the grinding of stone and his breathed exhaustion.

James didn't reply. It was awkward; he felt unwanted in the room. Albus clearly wanted to be alone but… It was hard. James just wanted to hug him. Give him back all the trust and attention that had been stolen from him in Azkaban. "Rosie said you wouldn't want to talk to me," James mumbled, desperately trying to make conversation. "But I didn't really believe her. I've wanted to see you ever since you left and…" he trailed off, realising how pathetic he sounded. He shrugged. "I can see you're not really in the mood. I… I'll… go home if you want… I'll leave you alone."

Albus looked thoughtful for a second. "No," he croaked out eventually. "I need some company."

James broke out into a wide grin. It was a start. "Rosie's kinda sad, y'know," he said, matter of factly. "She thinks you don't care about her anymore."

Albus shrugged.

"Do you?"

No reply.

James gulped. This wasn't going to be easy. "We still care about you, y'know."

Albus gave a feeble attempt at a smile. He was trying.

"It's been horrible y'know… For all of us… Rosie…" James broke off. "She wants her cousin back."

Albus almost scowled before breaking out into a fit of coughs. The sound was like the crashing of a harsh whip that seemed to reverberate far longer than was ever intended. And Albus was spluttering out between the vicious fits: "You said you'd visit me," the coughing made his tone worse than it should, "You said…" it was hoarse and cold… "You said…" his chest swallowed up the last of his words, in a crashing crescendo that rung around James head like a bitter memory. Nobody spoke for a second as Albus writhed in the aftermath of his fit. His voice sounded like it was imploding on itself as he struggled for breath. "You told me I would be okay," he whimpered. "You told me I'd be home in a week and that you'd come and see me every day and…" his voice gave out again. "I needed you and you didn't come. Nobody came." Albus spoke those last two words as if it were a death sentence; his own death sentence.

James' eyes sparkled as a lump formed in his throat. "They wouldn't let me come and see you. I begged and screamed at them but… they wouldn't let us see each other, Al. I wanted to, you have to believe me. I would give anything for… just for that to be me, not you. Anybody but my baby brother." His voice gave way.

Albus sighed. "I'm not your baby brother anymore… things have changed now. g like what they used to be… won't ever be again."

"But… you're still my brother Al. You're still you, underneath it all. I'm still me… I'm your brother, Al."

Albus didn't speak for another thirty seconds before finally settling upon his words. "You'll always be my brother, James. I'll always love you like my brother… remember that. But you can't be here for me anymore… I don't need anybody here anymore. Things have changed too much for them to be like before."

"But Al…"

"James," Albus said, coldly. "I think you should leave now."

James' mouth gaped open for a moment yet he said nothing. After a hesitant moment, he nodded. He would respect his brother's wishes, even if it killed him to leave.

* * *

><p>It was three days later when Albus was finally allowed to go home. It was a strange feeling, knowing that this was the first time he'd set foot into his house for over six months. It didn't feel like six months. It felt like an eternity; the longest possible six months of his life.<p>

Of course, the healers were reluctant to see him leave, as was most of the team from the Department of Mysteries. He'd been given a hip flask full of potion and had strict instruction regarding when it was to be drunk. It was to be taken on the hour, every hour, from six o clock in the morning to nine o clock in the evening. On a brighter note, they said that once his body has calmed down from the trauma of Azkaban, he'd be able to take it less often; maybe every three of four hours… they told him to see how it went. They also mentioned something about it being unnecessary during the night, because he took it so often during the day… He wasn't really listening.

Albus was just glad to be going home, if he was honest.

The whole family and Rose had turned up to drive him here. The look that she had behind her eyes as she stood in his private ward was one of mixed comprehension. She felt betrayed by her cousin that much was certain. She longed for the days when they could talk openly like friends; laugh, cry, express any range of emotions under the sun because they trusted and loved each other. Those days had passed now. Albus didn't trust anybody anymore; he had been hurt and betrayed by the people he depended on most. Albus could see all that behind her eyes; sadness, regret, bitterness, all mixed in with an insatiable anger and a raging empathy for her best friend. She didn't want things to go on any longer. Each time she looked at her cousin she could see Azkaban screaming out of his every vessel.

"Albus," Harry coughed, mildly. He grinned. "I think we should be moving out now."

For the first time this week, Albus was making a genuine effort to look happy, for the sake of his family. Admittedly, he wasn't doing a very good job of it, but they could see he was trying. It meant a lot.

Albus plastered a fake smile on his face and gently clambered out of the hospital bed. He hadn't bothered to change out of his pyjamas, because he would be going straight back to bed when he got home. God knows he needed the rest.

They arrived at number 12 Grimmauld Place about half an hour later, owing to an abundance of seemingly unnecessary security measures and paperwork. Albus could practically swear they were deliberately making things difficult for him.

James helped him up the stairs to the bedroom as soon as they arrived through the fireplace, seeing as though he was still very weak, an issue which a journey through the floo network had only worsened.

James was very careful, keeping a firm hand which somehow managed to comfort Albus and keep him calm all at the same time.

Albus was shocked to find that all of James' things had been moved out of the room that they had always shared together. The bunk bed that had stood by the window for almost nine years had been abandoned, replaced now with a slightly larger single bed of Albus' own. All of Albus' things were still there, practically in an identical state to how they'd been left in September but there was a whole side of the room completely bare. The red and gold Gryffindor banner that James had always had up, even since before he knew what Gryffindor was, had been taken down, as well as the crudely attached Quidditch posters he'd thrown up over the years. All the memories they had gathered growing up had been torn away, leaving the room bare; cold and unfamiliar.

James noted the confused expression on Albus' face as he gently laid him down on the bed. James' pulled a regretful smile; kind yet apologetic. "Dad…" he trailed off… "Dad thought we were getting a bit old to be sharing a room now…" he sighed. "He thought you needed your own space."

Albus looked distressed for a brief second, before he snapped back into dead pan. He said nothing of it; merely nodded serenely and muttered something like "He's probably right."

He knew the real reason why James' bed had been moved; it hit him almost instantly. It was because of the dreams. The constant writhing and pulsating in Albus' sleep that Harry knew would keep James awake. It wasn't fair.

James didn't say anything but he'd noticed the regret on his brother's face. This just served to remind everyone how much things had changed. He breathed slowly, as he gently tucked his brother into bed, just as their mother had always done when they were younger. He felt maternal for a moment, taking care of his brother like a son. He wanted that feeling, to feel responsible.

"Thanks James," Albus muttered, not seeming at all grateful.

"S'okay," James replied, clearly not picking up Albus' tone. "Make sure you rest, okay? Take your potion at twelve O'clock and if you need anything I'll just be down the hall. I've moved into the old drawing room, okay?"

Albus nodded, smiling graciously.

"Well bye, then."

The atmosphere was tense as the two boys exchanged their goodbyes. So many things rang through that needed to be said, so many thing that bother were too scared to bring up.

It was going to be a long time before things were back to normal.

**August 24****th**

One week to go.

Things hadn't changed in the seven months since Albus had returned from St. Mungo's. He'd made an effort with his family, everyone could see that. But he still didn't trust them, and that was clear to everyone who spoke to the boy. It hurt them that he wasn't the child they used to love anymore.

It was getting better though; it wasn't always just cold and distant situations. Sometimes they could have a perfectly amicable conversation, almost like they had always used to. Sometimes James could persuade his brother to play Quidditch with him and they'd fly around for hours; smiling and laughing occasionally.

But it was always there.

The Darkness behind Albus' eye was always there; lingering. Serving only to remind everybody of what they had done. It haunted Albus' face like a curse and haunted everyone else's minds like the darkest of nightmares. And there was that underlying fear, the despicable notion that they dare even contemplate for fear of it actually happening. The horrible thought that his eyes would glaze over; change back to pitch black and the rest of the body with it.

But that was nothing compared to the fear that his eyes would change and the rest of him staying the same.

* * *

><p>Another nightmare.<p>

It was bad this time, like Azkaban all over again.

The whole house was a blur. Everyone was dead.

He could see them dying, over and over again in his mind. Each and every time they fell, over and over again, dropping like flies, everyone he loved, everybody he'd ever cared about. It was always him. Every time he saw himself doing it, kneeling before them and killing them with hands watching and laughing as they screamed, yet collapsing inwardly every time he saw them. He had no control over his body, and nothing he could possibly do was making any difference. He was trapped behind his own eyes.

And there was that man.

Every time he killed someone, he saw a shadow of the man behind their faces. The man he'd killed before; the one who started all this. That Auror. He couldn't shake that face; the kind, bearded image of a man too young to die. He was a good man. Unlike Albus.

James was screaming. It was always James. And James stared at him with that look on his face; a look of utter sadness and irrevocable betrayal. What had he done? What was he doing?

And Albus was crying as his hands grasped around James throat, constricting ever so slowly, more and more, tighter and tighter… the most painful exhilarating experience of his life. The rush of life, the rush of the kill. It coursed through his veins like a plague yet stabbed at his very core all at the same time as he gently bled out the life force from his brother; soaking it up. It was wonderful; he needed this, he deserved this. Everything had been stolen from him and he was stealing it back. His happiness, his innocence… his sanity.

And they were screaming; both of them – howling like the echoing cries of a banshee. James face was purple; stained with tears and sweat and blood. His veins throbbed out as he cried out for his lost brother, he cried in anguish and sorrow as Albus constricted him. He was shaking as he lay there, totally suppressed. There was nothing he could do except scream, louder and louder, his hoarse voice intermingling with the deep, alluring sound that was Albus final battle cry. At last it would be over.

And the screams were getting louder. Screams of hate, screams of love, screams of utter desolation and a desperate need for something that was anything. Something real and alive and utterly incomparable. Madness. Madness. Nothing was happening. Nothing could come. A cry of life and a shout of death as Albus' hands got tighter and tighter and louder and louder, never stopping to breathe never stopping to love as the whole and utter complexity of death bled out of James' neck with a fading and alluring squeal.

And Albus' whole body was shaking he couldn't take another moment of the pain that such a rush caused. How he could he love yet hate so much at once? How could he feel such anger and pain all in the same moment?

And with a final cry that shook the very walls of his imagination Albus' grip exploded backwards, the pain final winning over and throwing him off his brother. His small body sprang back; hurling through the air and shattering onto the back wall, as the whole house slowly dissolved, and he finally shot up from his sleep with an echo of madness that still haunts Grimmauld Place to this day.

And for a moment there was nothing.

Absolute silence.

Albus' eyes glazed over with tears. He was still shaking and his throat was raw from incessant screaming. He groaned slightly, realising that he'd been screaming once again in his sleep. He'd have woken the whole house was his piercing cries. It was different this time, usually his nightmares just made him shake and moan. Nothing loud enough to disturb the rest of the house; they could just ignore it. They'd never get any sleep otherwise. He could still hear his screams; they were cold and painful. Empty yet so utterly vulnerable all at the same time.

It was seconds before James rushed into his room. He looked terrified; Albus hadn't had a nightmare like this since he'd come out of Azkaban.

"Albus," he croaked, desperately… "Albus are you okay, what happened?"

Albus coughed. "I just…" he trailed off. "Nightmare."

James quickly jumped onto the bed beside Albus. He gently put his arm around his brother and hugged him tightly.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"It was… It was horrible. I saw it again… I see it every time."

"What happened Albus?"

"Every time I see it… Everyone dies, every time." He flashed his face upwards to meet his brother's eye. "I'm killing them."

"Albus…"

"And it's wonderful… I crave it; the rush and… And it's horrible at the same time."

"What happened, Al? Why were you screaming?"

Albus gulped. "Because this time I didn't kill you. I was blasted away... I was thrown backwards and it felt like I was exploding and everything was happening at once and I couldn't breathe or…"

"Shh…" James rocked him gently for a moment. "Don't worry Al… it was just a dream. You're not like that. That's not you."

"And every time… Every time I do it I see his face… the man I killed, I see his face like a ghost. And it's screaming, it's always screaming…"

And yet somehow through it all, Albus was still not crying. His body shook and his voice was a tremor, but his eyes were bone dry. His voice was hardening once again, he was losing all sense of the sadness he had felt.

And in that moment James realised something. He saw a look in Albus' eyes. It was a look of grief, yet utter determination. It said something. It said that Albus was going to survive, no matter what, at every cost possible. It said that Albus would fight for life, harder than anyone had ever fought before. He'd ever moment of the most ordinary things that would feel like the world, just because they're so normal. And he'd fight for every day that would feel like a gift. And James saw that beneath his brother's eyes, and for the first time he could begin to appreciate things. He understood now why Albus had to go through this. He understood the seven months of hate; the bitter and cold personality that was so pitiful yet so difficult to love all at the same time. Because of hate was born a streak of madness. A madness that bore determination and a will to live that surpassed everything.

From now on Albus was going to survive.

* * *

><p>The burrow was alive was commotion. It was the night before the first day of term; the last night of the holidays. The whole family was gathered around the house, as well as a myriad of family friends; the Scamanders, the Longbottoms as well as Teddy Lupin and Andromeda. Albus rolled his eyes. His grandmother insisted on this family get together every year and he always hated them. His family was so big you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the thirty-five odd people that came every year.<p>

James, of course, was in his element. All those people to show off to… Albus grinned almost sarcastically as his brother scarpered around the garden with Teddy, acting like a massive idiot.

Things had been easier this last week. James and Albus had been talking more and conversations were starting to seem less forced. It was like things were finally returning back to normal around the Potter household. James was beginning to act like an idiot again, which in any other circumstance would piss Albus off… But now it meant that things weren't affecting James anymore… Nobody had seen that childish, playful grin on his face for over a year now. It was a relief not to see him acting so adult anymore. The downside was that Albus had to endure his endless annoyances.

Albus kept his distance.

There was a buffet table in the middle of the garden, filled with even more food than the Weasley family could eat. Not that they weren't trying, especially with James about. James rarely left the vicinity of the buffet table for longer than about thirty seconds.

Albus was sitting in the corner of his Grandmother's garden, trying as best he could to stay away from the rest of the family. Especially James… as much as Albus loved his brother, he didn't particularly love being the centre of attention.

He hadn't eaten much this evening. He wasn't really that hungry and didn't particularly fancy the idea of wading through the crowd anyway. No, he was quite content hiding away in the corner with his book.

"Hey Al."

Albus groaned inwardly. Harry had decided to take it upon himself to check on Albus. Albus gritted his teeth but attempted to seem polite nonetheless. "Oh hey Dad."

"Are you alright? You're looking kind of lonely here."

Albus shrugged. "I'm alright… I don't really like these kinds of things anyway."

Harry smiled. "I know…" He broke off, struggling for conversation. "Are you excited for tomorrow?"

"Hmm…" Albus looked considerate for a second as he closed his book. "Bit worried really…" he shrugged. "But happy to be going," he assured.

Harry sighed. "It's been a hard year. I'm just glad they let you go in the end. I think you're brave… y'know for staying strong and not letting things stop you. I don't think I could have done that at your age."

Albus chuckled slightly. "Of course you could… you were like super wizard…"

Harry laughed. "I was never brave…I … I just used to go into situation without thinking and got lucky. I always had help… I couldn't do it without Ron and Hermione."

"You're better than I ever was." Albus said. "I'm not strong enough to beat my demons."

"Albus I think you're the strongest person I know…" he gently took his son's hand. "Just because you can't beat this thing doesn't mean you're not strong. We'll beat this thing one day, I promise."

There were so many things that Albus wanted to say in that moment. He almost wanted to scream at his Dad. Liar. You said that last time. You said you'd never let them take me. You lied all along, you're lying now. I can see it in your eyes. You can't help me. You _won't_ help me.

Instead Albus just smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah," he muttered. "I suppose."

* * *

><p>It had taken Harry about another ten minutes to leave after that horrendous conversation. Albus immediately hightailed after he disappeared; not risking another rendezvous.<p>

The Burrow was a tall, leaning rectangular shape with protruding sections all the way up the height, held together only with the force of magic. Albus scaled the enormous oak tree in the far corner of the garden and moved onto the roof of the kitchen which was about twenty feet in the air. The kitchen was one of these protruding areas. It sat in the shadow of an even larger one that hovered off the ground, connected only by one side to the main structure of the house. James and Albus had always used to come here when they were younger. It was easily accessible, and held a perfect vantage over the rest of the garden. It was also almost completely hidden as a result of the looming shadow from the room above which darkened the whole area into blackness.

Albus perched himself on a log that he and James had somehow managed to drag up the tree when they were younger. He couldn't honestly remember how they managed it, though he suspected magic was involved.

It had been years since the days when they came here, almost every week. The log was rotting now, you could only faintly see the names that they had carved into it, long ago. James & Albus. Albus giggled. How cliché.

How much things had changed since then.

The moment was bittersweet; reminiscing all the times of a happy childhood, before everything went wrong. They'd always been the best of friends even though their personalities were so fundamentally different. Albus smirked and looked over the edge of the garden to look at his brother. James was gallivanting around with Martin Longbottom now. They'd had Martin around a few times over the holidays; him and James were practically best friends at school. They were both Gryffindors of course, and had known each other since early childhood.

As Albus carefully observed the scene unfolding beneath him, he heard a soft rustling coming from the tree that led up to the roof. He scowled slightly, was it wind?

No.

A shock of red hair appeared from the main branch as Rosie gently pulled herself onto the roof, with considerably less prowess than Albus had managed. Albus gritted his teeth as she approached him, grinning broadly as if she had just found some valued prize. Nevertheless, he plastered on his second fake smile of the evening, to equal the magnitude of her own.

"What are you doing here?" Rosie asked, carefully placing herself down on the log next to her cousin. "Shift up," she muttered. "Make room for your favourite cousin."

Albus smirked a little bit. "I don't think there's room for three of us up here…"

Rosie scowled. "Be nice," she muttered. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing up here?"

Albus shrugged. "Hiding. I don't like all those people."

"Of course you do. They're all our family, Al."

"I like them all… just not at the same time. Too many people."

"They're not that bad."

"It was a bit overwhelming."

"Alright…" Rosie trailed off.

There was a brief period where they sat in silence, slowly observing the cold air swirling around before them. It was almost magical. In fact, considering this house, it probably was.

"Are you scared?" Rosie asked.

Albus sighed. "Yeah." The bare honesty in his voice was almost chilling. "I'm scared that something could happen again…"

"Your potion…"

Albus shook his head. "It's not as good as they say it is… I can tell."

"They said you can't possibly transform if you take that." Rosie said, as if reciting from a textbook.

"They lied…" Albus said. "I can tell they were… they. They told the Minister that it was fool proof because they knew I wouldn't last much longer in Azkaban. I mean, it's probably going to be fine. I only transformed three times even without the potion…" he trailed off.

"Three times?" Rosie asked. "I thought it was only two."

The broken look in Albus eye screamed one word: Azkaban.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be fine," Rosie said, recovering from the shock of his last sentence.

"I know…" Albus trailed off. "I just can't help but be scared, y'know… all those people. That would be the end of it… of everything."

"Well, we'll just have to make sure nothing happens, won't we?"

"I can't control it," Albus said, simply. "I've tried, in my dreams. It won't work… every time…"

"You're strong Albus," Rosie said. "When the time comes… I believe in you, okay?"

"When the time comes?"

"If ever something happened. If ever you transformed and did something so utterly unforgivable… If ever your whole world came crashing down because of the smallest mistake. If everyone turned against you and gave up and it seemed like you couldn't go on any longer. I'd be there, Albus. Remember that, I'm going to be that. And I believe in you. I believe in you now, and I'll believe in you then. To stay strong and keep fighting even when it seems like there's nothing in the world worth fighting for anymore. Remember that, Albus. Always remember this."

And remember it, Albus did. He remembered those words until the very day he died. Because one day he'll need them. One day those words will be the single beacon of hope in an eternity of darkness. And when the world comes crashing down and there's not a single prayer left in the rotting world, those words will be there. Those words were eternal.

And as the tears rolled slowly down Rosie's face she prayed. Prayed in the light of recent events; the only person who still prayed. Because she knew, in that single moment. As bad as everything had been, as horrible as life has seemed…

The worst is yet to come.

Epilogue: Albus' Diary: August 31st.

It's surprising how much a person can change in such a short period of time. If I met myself a year ago we wouldn't recognise each other. He was such a small boy; innocent and naïve, yet sickeningly happy in a way I can only long for.

I don't know how much I like the person I've turned into. Sometimes it's easier to live with than others… some days I can walk out of my bedroom feeling almost normal, were it not for the fact that I killed someone.

You'll never know how much that plays on your mind until you've been through it. It's encompassing and persistent – a never ending sinking that threatens everything. You stop sleeping properly, you stop doing anything; it's the only thing you can think of, every day and every night and every single last fathomable second of your miserable existence. It never leaves you; you can never escape something like that. The feeling will live with you forever.

There are so many regrets. I regret being foolish once; foolish enough to follow my father on a fool's errand to a scene that would eventually ruin my life. I regret being a wreck. If I was stronger than things would have been different. I would have been able to keep control of my own body. Maybe then I wouldn't have killed someone.

But you know what I regret most of all?

I regret trusting people. I regret relying on people to keep me out of Azkaban. They'll never know what it was like, being locked in there. It eats away at you. When the happiness disappears all that's left is madness; the sheer insanity of your own mind eating away at itself while you scream and cry for salvation. And it never stops. Nothing can ever make it stop. It's like your head is on fire as it replays every moment of pain you've caused on an endless and insatiable repeat. You can feel your mind fading away as the Dementors slowly suck it out of you.

I still feel it every night in my dreams. I get transported back every night to see everyone be killed over and over again in the most torturous ways. And it's me killing them, every time it's ma and my own never ending insanity burning out. And I scream for it to end. Every night I scream in prayer to some God I know doesn't exist. Make it stop. Make the pain stop.

People say I'm brave for dealing with this. I think they're wrong. If I'd been strong and brave things would have been easier. If I'd been brave I wouldn't have been scared to go to Azkaban. If I'd been strong those people wouldn't have stolen my mind. If I'd been strong I wouldn't have depended on everyone to save me. Because ultimately everyone failed at that, didn't they? Before I went to Azkaban James said I wouldn't last a week. He was wrong.

I lasted half an hour. That was the worst half an hour of my life. Every second I fought the Dementors was another second they adored. They fed off me like meat.

I'll never trust people to save me again.

I'm still alive though, if you can call this a life. I got through it, didn't I? At the cost of everything, I'll admit, but I'm still alive.

And hell was going to freeze over if anyone thought they could do anything about it. Trust me, I've been there. I'd survived through everything; every moment of pain had led up to this. Was living really worth that? Maybe not, but I'm sure as hell not giving up now I've finally got out the other end.

It was going to be hard, living on after everything, but if anyone could manage it I could. Through every transformation I'll have to endure, every injury I'll force upon myself, every nightmare I'll have to relive, I'll carry on fighting alone.

Because if there's one thing life has taught me thus year, it's that nobody will fight for you.

And sometimes it's going to be hard. Sometimes I'm going to want to give up and let life beat me Sometimes all I'll want to do is run into a corner and freeze and cry at the sheer desperation of everything that could possibly happen. But I'll live for the good times.

I'll live for going to Hogwarts; that day I've looked forward to for so long. I'll live for those quite mornings after a transformation, knowing that I'm free from the pain for another six weeks. I'm going to live for that day, once day, when the healers come up with a permanent antidote. That day I can finally do something normal.

I'll live for my first spell; the days I learn something just like everybody else. I'll live for my first job, the first day of the rest of my life.

And there'll be one other day; the most normal of days when I'll stop for a moment and think. I'll think for that finally things have started to get better. All the pain and the waiting was finally worth it, because through it all, through every second was building up to something. Building up to this, the most normal of days. When I realise that I've finally found something to live for. Because that's what it's all about.

My name is Albus Severus Potter, and this is my story.


End file.
